


A Swallow Flies

by pippawrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Pirates, Sea Battles, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippawrites/pseuds/pippawrites
Summary: Julien has no criteria for employment, except it must be paid. When a young girl asks him to take her across the ocean to find her brother, Julien grudgingly accepts; he's headed there anyway and it sounds like easy money before getting back to serious things.The brother in question, however, does not make it quite so easy.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 28
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this story! Please mind the tags and warnings. The story is set around roughly 1700 (give or take); I've done my best to make things as historical-ish accurate as possible, but I'm neither a poet nor a historian - please just take it for what it is, action/adventure with drama, smut and violence. Also please remember sensibilities may vary across time periods.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy it! :)

Marseille had changed little in the time Julien had been away. The harbour was the same, a cacophony of noise and movement surrounding the anchored vessels. Goods were carried off or on board, passengers were welcomed or seen off, errand cats and dogs were scrounging for scraps and above all that, gulls were flying in wide circles, crying loudly and adding to the undecipherable mixture of noises.

It was the busiest part of the town, and Julien was not too unhappy to leave it behind as he made his way through side alleys, leading further into the town. Not too far though, but he knew just where to find the most agreeable spot to dally for a little while.

'Well!' the innkeeper of the _Dolphin of Marseille_ greeted him with a laugh. 'And here I'd thought you'd gone off and died. I haven't seen you in months, Julien. Or has it been more than a year already?'

'Possibly,' Julien smiled, sitting down at the counter where the innkeeper's wife was cleaning glasses. 'Anything new, Gérard?'

'Nothing for now,' Gérard replied. 'What brings you back? A job?'

'Yes. Well, I hope to get one soon, that is. Don't worry, I have enough money for my stay.'

'Good to hear.' Gérard's voice dropped. 'Wasn't your last job for a wealthy merchant? Are the bourgeois truly such misers?'

'No,' Julien chuckled. 'But I like to spend my coin when I have it. I might not see next year, so why not enjoy it?'

'Oh, don't give him ideas,' Gérard's wife rolled her eyes. 'You want a room at the back again?'

'If possible, yes.'

'Come with me.'

She set him up in a small room overlooking the narrow side-alley on one side of the building, brought him a bucket of water and left him to his own devices. Julien cleaned up and got ready for a nice dinner and quiet night before he'd start scouting for employment the next day.

He'd spent the previous months burning through his last payment with wine and whores, and bad habits died hard because though he went up to his room alone that night, he was indeed quite drunk.

It was hot in his room and he opened the shutters before stumbling towards the bed, and crashed face-first down on to it.

Some stupid sea shanty was stuck in his head. No, it was the drunkards downstairs he could hear. Blast it. Maybe he should go back down and continue the night? Tomorrow was another day.

On second thought, the bed was quite comfortable. And at least the drunkards didn't sing half-badly. He could fall asleep like this -

'Ah, _shit_ ,' he heard, right below his window, followed by a crash and more cursing.

Julien blinked, and rather irritated, rose to make his way and glance out of the window into the street. He was on the first floor, and below him, he saw a figure leaning against the wall of the inn.

What - hell no.

'Oi, mate,' he shouted. 'You better not piss there, I don't want to smell it!'

The figure moved, looking up at him, and Julien couldn't make out the features under the poor lighting but it looked like a man.

'I'm not,' was the reply, telling Julien this was the same person who'd cursed before, before the man looked away. 'Disgusting idiot.'

'Hey, mate, I'm not the one knocking shit over.'

The man slumped on to a barrel and leant back against the wall, ignoring Julien. He had a nice voice, though, even if it had insulted him, but Julien was not easily affected. It was probably one of the tamest things anyone had ever called him, and it was rather cute when he thought about it.

He closed his shutters, splashed his face with water and made his way downstairs, through the packed inn, and outside to walk around the building until he found his target.

'Still here?' he asked, sitting on a stack of crates near the man, and the stranger moved his head to look at him.

'Who are you?'

'I asked you not to piss below my window.'

'I'm not. Fuck off.'

Julien laughed. 'Come on.'

The man snorted, looking down at the bottle in his hand. 'I'm not sharing.'

'That's fine, I've had enough.'

'Right.'

Silence for a while, and Julien studied the stranger as best he could. The visibility was abysmal, but the light shining out of the inn and from a sparse lantern hanging off a nearby wall drew enchanting shadows over the stranger's face. Such unusual contours, but Julian found it attractive. The stranger's eyes, too, dark in colour but so bright at the same time, and hair so black it seemed a moving shadow when he tilted his head to look at Julien.

'Something you want?'

His voice was a little hoarse, and suddenly Julien wanted to ruin it completely.

'Do you want company?'

The stranger paused at that, eyes flickering briefly up and down, then he shrugged. 'You can't make my night any worse. Sure. But I don't know if I'll be able to get out after. Might be too drunk for that.'

'That's fine.'

Nobody paid them any attention when they slipped back inside, and up the stairs into Julien's room. The stranger was indeed quite tipsy, gripping Julien's shoulder for balance, and leaning against him once they were inside his room.

He was a little less burly than Julien, about half a hand span shorter and leaner, but his grip was firm, and he was not light-weighted. There was definitely strength in him, though Julien liked to think he'd come out on top in a fight.

But now he had something else entirely in mind, and let the stranger drop on to the bed to light a candle.

'What do you need that for?' the stranger asked, rubbing at his face with one hand as he sat on the edge of the bed. 'I'm too drunk to steal anything from you.'

'Doesn't hurt,' Julien replied, though what he really wanted was to get a better look at the other man.

He wasn't disappointed. The light from the candle wasn't great either, but it confirmed his suspicion: the stranger wasn't a Frenchman, though he spoke like one, but Julien felt his lust mounting. He was beautiful, from the strange tone of his skin under the light, the high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. His hair was a little below the shoulders, an untidy tie at the back of his neck in the common style, and it shone like silk. Julien wanted to run his fingers through it and pull on it, wanted it a complete mess whilst the man panted beneath him.

Without thinking he reached out, tangling his fingers in it, and pulled the stranger's head back to kiss him fiercely.

The stranger made a surprised noise against his lips, hands on Julien's shoulders as though he meant to push him off, but after another heartbeat, his grip on them tightened and he kissed Julien back.

His hair was as soft as it had looked, and the little gasp he let into Julien's mouth was delicious.

It set every inch of Julien on fire. He deepened the kiss, delighting in his lover's eagerness to let him inside, and licked at every inch until he drew a whine for air out of that lovely mouth.

He retreated, and the pants as the man caught his breath drove him even wilder. His lover was staring at him with wide eyes, as though he'd never experienced such a kiss before, and Julien wanted to _wreck him_.

He helped his lover out of his coat and pulled him up on the bed before settling over him, kneeing his legs apart to grind down, and grinned at the hiss he drew.

'You - fuck,' the other man stuttered, fingernails digging through Julien's shirt into his shoulders.

Julien reached down, pulling his lover's shirt out of his trousers and opening his belt, delighting in the shiver when he skimmed fingers over the taunt muscles of his stomach. If he'd been sober, he'd have taken his time to tease him, undressed him completely before unravelling him until he was begging, but Julien was drunk and aroused beyond belief, and he wanted this beautiful man to give him that wide-eyed look again and whine and whimper whilst Julien worked him.

It was extremely satisfying to find his lover already mostly hard, and he sucked in a breath when Julien gripped him.

'Oh shit,' he gasped. 'Shit, you - you can't - '

'Can't what, treasure?' Julien purred, nosing at that soft hair to nibble at a pretty ear, and was rewarded with a _whine_ as his lover bucked up against him. 'Come on, pretty, tell me how you want it.'

His response was another hiss as his lover rocked back against his fist, before letting go of his shoulders to work open Julien's trousers in turn. It was rather unsophisticated, the way the other man stroked his length, but the touch was enough to make Julien lose a part of his mind. It was _addictive_ , the way this gorgeous man beneath him moved, rolling his hips against Julien's hand and letting out pants, so entirely at Julien's mercy he could barely return the favour. Julien wanted him that way, wanted him lost and desperate and wanted those unusual, pretty eyes on him when Julien made him come.

'Look at me, treasure,' he growled with a nip to his lover's ear.

He was obeyed, and if Julien hadn't been drunk before, he would have been then. He sped up his strokes, thumbing at the wet head, and his own stimulation was secondary to the way his lover's eyes fluttered, and he let out the most delicious, broken _moan_ when he came in Julien's hand.

Devil and hell, he was a sight. His hair had almost come undone from the sloppy tie, and Julien pulled on it as he savagely kissed the other man's panting mouth before coming as well.

Despite his climax, Julien took another moment to indulge in the hot, willing mouth beneath him. Not every partner wanted to kiss, and this one wasn't the most skilful Julien had ever had, but his _eagerness_ and those little _noises_ and the way he let Julien _ravish_ him brought out the basest, most animalistic urges inside Julien to claim him.

At some point he needed air though, and rolled off to blindly throw a handkerchief to his lover before cleaning himself up as well.

It was only perfunctory, really, so as not to mess their clothes up more as they undressed, because Julien would happily spend the night until dawn fucking this man every which -

Or not. His lover had rolled over, to the farthest edge of the bed, by the time Julien turned back around.

The dismissal was quite clear.

And really, why shouldn't it be? They were both drunk strangers, they'd both gotten off, so what more was there to do?

The little bit of logic left in Julien's brain told him that. But he couldn't help, as he stood there and stared at the attractive lines of his lover's figure, feeling entirely cheated and rather dissatisfied. He wanted to roll the other man back around, back into the middle of the bed, then undress him completely and fuck him until his face was wet with tears and his stomach covered in come.

Clearly though, the stranger wasn't so inclined.

Julien couldn't hold back a muttered insult, feeling... 

He didn't know what. The rejection needled something inside him he hadn't expected, made him feel _not good_ and _not fine_ even though it was ridiculous, and it was too confusing for him to understand it.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it.

Maybe though... maybe his lover was just tired? He'd seemed miserable before, because who else but miserable souls got drunk alone in an alley?

Maybe tomorrow morning, they could... have some kind of meal together (provided they didn't throw up). If the stranger was broke, Julien was even... not opposed to inviting him.

He was so beautiful. Julien was vaguely aware of being drunk out of his mind with wine and lust, but _still_ , the stranger was gorgeous.

Lying down beside him, mindful to keep some distance between them, Julien reached out and snagged a loose strand of hair. It was straight but with a little curl at the end, so dark, darker than a raven and darker than the night, and Julien coiled the strand around his finger a few times.

Where did his lover come from? Not from here. He was probably a sailor, but he didn't look like one. His clothes were simply cut, practical before fashionable, but the fabric was of good quality. He also spoke _better_ , not like thugs of Julien's calibre. His few words had been slurred or gasped, but Julien had still heard the uncommon accent. 

Around these parts, at least. Of Marseille or the south in general, his lover was not.

How _strange_. Nothing made sense with what Julien saw or knew, and it fuelled his desire to speak to the man the next morning. Julien usually never did, not caring for the drunken tumbles or whores he paid to entertain him, but this man... Well. He _was_ a drunken tumble, Julien supposed. But not quite. Not entirely. He was... an _enchanting_ drunken tumble.

There. That had to do it. Explain what made no sense to Julien inside his own head.

He let go of the lock, and it went back to its straight line, except for the small curl at the end that seemed a tad tighter. A little proof, a reminder, of Julien's finger in it.

Something weird inside Julien did something strange and none of it made sense, but he suddenly sat up to check the covers. The stranger had settled on top, and that was fine for now, but it would doubtlessly get colder as morning approached.

With a little manoeuvring, Julien got some of the covers over his lover's chest and midriff as well, then settled back down. He shot another glance at his sleeping companion, and was asleep himself before he knew it.

Morning came, and Julien was woken by someone yelling in the alley beneath his window. Something about rotten fish and someone's mother, and he groaned when it made his head pound.

He'd drunken too much last night. And any other night. Sobriety in the evening was not his strong suit, unless he was working and in spite of what he told himself every morning when he woke up like this.

Right. He was meant to be looking for employment. And last night - 

Last night. Julien rolled over, grimacing at the pain, and blinked at the empty spot.

Then at the empty room.

His lover was gone.

Julien sat up, but there was no hint of a note or anything.

The man had just gone, as was usual for two inebriated strangers having fallen in bed together by accident. It was absolutely _normal_ for him to have disappeared, and before Julien had woken himself.

It was normal, and Julien had no idea why he'd expected anything else. The fact, as painful as it was to admit, that he'd gone insane in his drunken lust was just that: momentary insanity.

Now that he was sober, it was easy to see.

It was less easy to swallow, but Julien clenched his jaw and told himself to stop being an imbecile. By the next time he'd have his hand in another man's trousers, he'd have forgotten all about this strange individual.

Certainly, he had bigger worries, notably his depleting amount of money.

Fortunately, Julien was a man of many talents, and those he didn't yet possess, he acquired by necessity. Over the following months, he did a variety of jobs, which all paid decently and allowed him to drink and fuck pretty whores with dark hair and dark eyes. He often came back to the _Dolphin_ , because Gérard knew all those who were looking for men like Julien, and it was on one such day that Gérard addressed him after bringing him his meal.

'Are you free at the moment? You usually are when you're hanging around here.'

'I am.'

'Good. There was someone strange here last night. Said he was looking for someone who could bring him back a head. You still do that?'

'Yes.'

'Excellent. I said I knew someone. Thought of you. Now I'll be honest, I don't think the fellow himself was the customer, I think he was scouting for a grand gentleman. Be here tonight, I'll come get you when he's asking for my man.'

'Great. Thanks,' Julien replied, and it made him smile.

He was content doing whatever paid, from collecting debts to stealing shit to getting rid of undesirables, but a wealthy man asking for a head? Those were the type of contracts that paid him a year of the finest things in life.

Risky, yes, but Julien had nothing to lose. He lived for his own satisfaction so there was no point playing it safe and bypassing greater rewards.

He was in the inn's dining hall that evening, and at some point, once the inn was full and merry and too busy for anyone to be noticed, Gérard came and led him to a room in the back. 

'Here he is, sir,' Gérard said to the man sitting behind the small table. 'Julien Moreau.'

The man nodded, and Gérard left, closing the door behind him.

'Sit down, Mr Moreau,' the stranger said, and Julien took the seat opposite.

He'd expected to meet a middle-man, but he was having doubts when studying his vis-à-vis. The man's clothes were hidden by a long coat, but the fabric seemed very, very expensive, and his face was most telling of all. Thin and elegant, the skin was pale, unlike any working man who spent his days labouring, especially in the south. His speech was too refined, and Julien suspected this was, indeed, the hirer himself.

The two silent, large bodyguards standing at the wall behind the stranger also seemed to confirm that.

'I've been told you have the skills I need,' the stranger said. 'Do you?'

'You want someone's head. I'll bring it to you.'

'The head, yes. And the body below it. Attached. It's information I want from that head, so I expect it to be in a shape to answer my questions. Is that clear?'

That was more complicated. Julien usually didn't have targets to _take_ somewhere. They were dealt with on the spot, regardless of what he needed from them.

But Julien had never let unforeseen variables get in the way of a solid bag of gold before either.

'It's clear.'

'Good. The man I - _you_ \- will be looking for is named Jean de Faucheville, the son. Last I knew, he disappeared somewhere in the Caribbean. I suspect he's joined a crew there. Find him and bring him back to Nantes.'

'Jean de Faucheville?' The name seemed familiar, mentioned in inns along the coastline and tales from older sailors. 'Wasn't that a corsair?'

'The father was. The son however has lost his _lettre de marque_. He's operating without His Majesty's blessing, if he's still scourging the seas. If the _Royale_ catch him first, they will hang him. Unfortunately, I need him alive, hence your opportunity to become a rich man. I am willing to give you half your payment now, and the latter half once you've fulfilled your job. Depending on how capable you are, I might even double it.'

'How capable?'

'He has something I want as well. A map, of an archipelago in the Caribbean. If you bring me the map _and_ the man, you will get twice the remaining payment. Bring me only the man, what we agreed on. Only the map however will get you nothing. Am I clear?'

'Yes. Anything else you can tell me about him? How to recognise him?'

'He's a savage who pretends himself... Well. Perhaps not any more. He's a savage. You'll figure it out.'

'The New World is full of savages.'

'Indeed. Unfortunately, I don't have much else to tell you. He looks like any savage does. Perhaps he's taken to running around half-naked with feathers in his hair again, I don't know. He should be known by his name however, so you should be able to find him. If you don't, well - you're not the only one. I'm sure someone else will. Anything else?'

'Who am I working for and where should I report once I'm in Nantes?'

'At my hôtel,' the stranger replied, and then smiled in a way that reminded Julien of a shark. 'Ask for Pierre de Faucheville.'

So Julien's suppositions had been correct. There was also no employer as generous and vindictive as a nobleman who was after his own blood, and it made Julien smile.

'Very brave of you to come here yourself, sir.'

'Brave?' Pierre de Faucheville chuckled. 'That would imply I am scared of the likes of you. I am not. I would rather sit here for an hour that have someone like you in my home for a minute, with the exception of you bringing me what I want.'

'You've come far from Nantes.'

'Business is rarely pleasurable. So let us finish this.'

Julien was given half his promised gold and the address of Pierre de Faucheville's hôtel in Nantes before being dismissed with a wave, and Julien left the room to thank Gérard.

The amount he'd been given was insane. Pierre de Faucheville was clearly very, _very_ invested in getting his relative back, even more so if he indeed had sent more than one mercenary after him. Julien had no reason to doubt that; disputes within blue blood were often worth more than gold.

So much the better for him. The next day, he'd look around the harbour for a ship heading to the Caribbean. It didn't have to be a passenger vessel: Julien would take working as a sailor if it got him there more quickly. There was always _someone_ who went missing from a crew during each shore leave, and Julien's skills with weapons would persuade any captain. He had his own pistol and knew how to use a blade, and that was worth its pound of gold when sailing to the New World and its pirate-infested waters.

He went to bed sober - no captain would hire a man reeking of wine, even if it was widely accepted any sailor worth his salt drank - and was woken the next morning by a forceful knock at his door.

_What now?_

'I'm coming,' he groused as he made himself (semi) decent, then grumpily went to open the door.

He was met with nothing. He'd find the little shit who -

'Have you seen my brother, sir?'

Julien looked down, and this time was met with a small and rather dirty face. 'What?'

'My brother, sir. Where is he?'

'How the hell should I know?' Julien snapped, and made to close the door but the child squeezed through before he could lock her out.

Well, he supposed it was a girl. She wore a simple, long coat over what he assumed was a dress, and he could see long chestnut hair pinned up beneath her small bonnet. Her eyes were large and green, looking up at him imploringly.

'Please, he must be here.'

'I don't know, and I don't care. Now get out.'

How had she sneaked past Gérard and his wife? Well, Julien supposed she was rather small. Perhaps ten years old?

'Please, I don't know where else to go,' she repeated, and swallowed. 'He wrote me a letter from this inn. He must be here somewhere. Please, I'll pay you if you help me.'

'Pay me?' Julien repeated, and laughed. 'Pay me with what?'

'Look, I have this. It belonged to Maman but you can have it if you help me find my brother.'

So saying she reached into her coat, and drew out a ring she held up to show Julien.

It was a gold ring with several gems on it, a priceless piece of jewellery. Julien's eyebrows shot up and he took it to look at it before glancing back at her.

'This is yours?' he repeated, extremely doubtful.

'Yes. But if you help me, you can have it.'

Julien snorted. 'Where'd you find that, you little thief?'

'I'm not a thief,' the child replied, looking upset at the notion. 'I told you, I have it from Maman.'

'I'm sure,' Julien laughed. 'A wretched thing like you, huh? Your mother stole it from someone, then. A rich client who forgot a bauble after his visit? Don't tell me nonsense.'

'I don't know what you mean,' the child said, small face scrunching up in confusion. 'But it's mine, and I will give it to you if you help me. Otherwise, please give it back, sir.'

'Or what?'

'Or what? It's mine, you can't keep it if I don't give it to you.'

It was the most ridiculous thing Julien had ever heard, and he laughed again. 'If I throw you out without giving it back, what would you do? Run to the police? I'm sure they'd bother with you.'

The little girl stared at him, as though she couldn't understand what he was saying. 'But it's mine.'

'Why should I care? You probably stole it, even if you insist on that ridiculous story.'

'I didn't! You have to give it back, I need it to find my brother!'

Julien looked at her, her wide eyes and distressed face, and thought it wasn't worth the theatrics.

'Here, now get out of my sight,' he said, and opened the door to none-too-gently push her out.

He closed the door behind her, then sighed as he rubbed at his face. Forget going back to bed, he was too awake now and besides, he'd need to go to the harbour soon anyway.

He washed his face, and was about to start shaving when he heard a high-pitched shriek.

It came from several rooms away, inside the inn, and Julien frowned. The _Dolphin_ was hardly in a reputable part of Marseille, but it wasn't known for people getting murdered in their beds either. As far as it went, it was fairly decent.

He holstered his pistol inside his belt and opened his door, and this time, he understood the scream.

_'Give it back! It's mine!'_

For the love of - 

He walked down the corridor, and before he'd even reached the room the commotion seemed to be coming from, the door burst open and the little girl landed on the floor outside.

She scrambled back up, her face red and wet with tears, and glared at the man standing grinning in the doorway.

'Give it back! You can't take it! You're a thief!'

'Say that again, you little brat,' the brute laughed, and Julien could guess what had transpired.

He took hold of his pistol and pointed it at the brute's head. 'Give it back,' he said coldly.

'What?' the brute replied, and his grin disappeared when he saw what Julien was aiming at him. 'This doesn't concern you.'

'Give it back or she'll have to help herself.'

'I don't - '

'I know what you took from her. Give her the ring back.' He pulled the hammer to full-cock. 'Now.'

The brute stared at the barrel for a short moment, then threw something at the little girl. She caught it, and her tears stopped as she wiped at her face with her sleeve.

'Thank you,' she sniffed.

'Now piss off,' Julien said.

He'd meant the both of them, but only the brute took the hint, closing his door. Julien thought he heard a curse aimed at him, but he ignored it and walked back to his room.

'Thank you,' the little girl repeated, and she caught the hem of his shirt. 'Will - '

'No. Leave me alone now and stop asking for trouble.'

'I'm not asking for trouble,' she protested, and in spite of Julien's best efforts, she'd wormed herself past him into his room again. Well, he supposed he could have prevented it if he'd slammed the door on her fingers, but he did not necessarily want to do that. 'He was mean. I just wanted him to help me find my brother.'

'People don't want to help you. Take the hint and go away.'

'But please! Even if - even if you don't like my ring, my brother has other things. He has gold and jewels and - and - and things, and he will give you everything you want if you bring me back to him! _Please_.'

'I don't believe a word of that,' Julien sighed. He wrapped a cloth over the flint and pulled the trigger before setting the pistol aside. 'Now get out, I need to finish getting dressed.'

'But it's true,' she insisted, and turned around so her back was to him. 'I can't see you now. Please, sir. I only have my ring, but my brother has much, much more.'

She was stubborn, Julien would give her that. In spite of himself, he began to mull on it as he started shaving.

'I'm leaving for the New World soon,' he replied. 'I don't have time to go running around looking for missing brothers.'

'Oh! The New World? Please, take me with you! That's where my brother said he would go!'

'What, really? I thought he was here.'

'He was. But his letter was old, and I didn't know where else to go. But I know he went to sail in the New World. In the Caribbean. Please, take me with you!'

Huh. That changed things, a little. He would already be looking for a man, what was one more? But - 

'What am I supposed to do with you if we don't find him? I'm not a nanny and I intend for it to stay that way.'

'I don't need a nanny,' the little girl replied. It even sounded strangely convincing. 'I will find my brother alone if I have to. Please, just take me to the New World, and I will give you my ring.'

That changed things even more. Julien just had to keep an eye on her for the voyage, and then he'd be one lovely piece of jewellery richer and one brat lighter.

He finished shaving, towelled off and then dressed himself.

'Show me that ring again. And you can turn around.'

Eagerly she did, and Julien studied the ring more closely.

It truly was a beauty. It was worth far more than a fare across the ocean.

He handed it back to her. 'All right,' he said. 'I'll escort you to the New World, and then you're on your own.'

'Thank you!' she smiled. 'Thank you, sir!'

'Just call me Julien. Stop it with the "sir", it sounds ridiculous.'

'Julien,' she nodded. 'As you wish, Mr Julien.'

' _Just_ Julien. If I take you with me, I'm going to have to justify your existence. Let's pretend you're my sister, and no one will ask questions. All right?'

People rarely did anyway, but a tale of two siblings seeking better fortunes in the New World sounded like the least complicated story if anyone asked.

'Julien,' she repeated. 'It's a nice name.'

No one had ever said such a platitude to him before, and Julien couldn't help a snort of amusement. 'Right. What's yours?'

'Louise.'

'Fine. For the purpose of this trip, we'll be Julien and Louise Moreau, looking for a new life in the New World. Understood?'

'Yes,' Louise nodded happily, beaming up at him. 'Thank you!'

Her eyes and nose were still slightly red from crying, but beneath the grime, her skin was lily-white. It didn't make sense to Julien either, but perhaps Marseille _had_ changed a little. Certainly, there was more bizarre characters running around than he remembered.

Perhaps not entirely for the worse, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> NB: lettre de marque = document authorising a French captain to raid ships of enemy nations without being prosecuted as a pirate for it. Corsairs were also expected to adhere to rules of conduct during raids and part of the bounty went to the King.  
> Royale = French Royal Navy


	2. Chapter 2

Louise sat on his bed whilst Julien collected his few belongings, stuffing them in his travelling sac.

'Are we going now?' she asked.

'After breakfast. Enough time for you to ask Gérard or his wife if they've seen your brother and get me out of this sorry situation.'

'I already asked the madam. She said no then that I should get out, but I went upstairs instead.'

Right. Of course. That would have been too easy.

Julien tied up his bag and slung it over his shoulder before motioning for Louise to get up. 'Let's go.'

She followed him downstairs, and Gérard looked up from the counter when they reached the ground floor.

'Julien, glad to see you. Was there a problem earlier? Thought I heard something but it was quiet when I went up.'

'I took care of it. Breakfast, please.'

'Thank you. So - who's that?'

'Hello sir,' Louise said with a smile.

Julien sighed, and briefly glanced down at her.

He doubted she had money to buy food, and clearly he couldn't _not_ make sure she had something to eat. On the bright side, she was so small any money spent on her couldn't be _that_ much.

'Get me my usual and something for her as well, please. It's work. Don't ask.'

'Right,' Gérard nodded, and went into the kitchen to tell his wife.

They had a quick meal, Louise studying him, but Julien ignored her.

'You eat strangely,' she finally said.

'Ah, really.'

'Yes. Maman always said to keep my mouth shut when I ate.'

'What?'

'Yes. She said it was important to remember that.'

Julien blinked at her. His own mother had never told him anything of the sort.

Granted, she hadn't told him much except for what a bastard his father was and to get her more liquor, but she had still made sure to instil in him the _vital_ things - run away from the police, how to knife an adversary stronger than him, and how to pick-pocket. How to eat had never been on the table, so to speak, mostly because eating in the first place wasn't a given and the only thing to do with food once he had it was to shove it in his mouth before someone stole it. Table manners, as the fine people would call it, were for those with no other worries.

But perhaps it did lend credence to Louise's story her brother had money or riches to spare. She wasn't from the common folk, even if she was dressed and dirty like one.

Huh. Julien pondered on that for a moment.

Well. First they had to get to the New World. The rest could come then.

He paid when they finished and after a short goodbye to Gérard, they left the inn. They'd barely taken a few steps into the street that he felt her small hand slide into his, and he pulled it away as he looked down with a sigh.

'What now?'

'Nothing,' she replied, looking confused. 'I didn't say anything.'

'Then what did you grab me for? Don't do that.'

'Oh. I'm sorry. I just don't want to get lost.'

It wasn't an _unreasonable_ concern considering how busy the harbour would be, but it still baffled Julien. He'd managed without anyone holding his hand as a child - if anything, he'd been meant to appear _not_ related to his parents - and he didn't really know what he was supposed to do with the strange needs this child apparently had.

It was a fine start. Julien suddenly realised he hadn't really considered how he was meant to deal with her. He had a basic idea she needed food and a warm place to sleep, but not really anything beyond that.

_Just get it over with._

Julien resigned himself to the inevitable and grabbed her hand before beginning to walk again. If he lost her, it'd only make him waste more time.

He supposed it would also ride him of the hassle, but he'd already more or less made peace with the idea he'd fulfil her request, and Julien liked to finish what he started.

Besides, it was only until they were on a ship. Once in confined spaces she couldn't disappear from, he wouldn't have to worry about her getting lost.

So they went to the harbour, and it took Louise stumbling several times behind him before Julien realised he was walking too fast for her. He sighed and slowed, and quickly found a step that kept her beside him.

'You walk even faster than my brother.'

'Well, you're going to outrun him by the time you're back together, then.'

Unexpectedly, Louise giggled. 'I can't wait to see his face!'

Her voice was full of happy excitement, and Julien had a strange desire to smile. 'You'll need a bit more patience first, though. It'll easily take six weeks before we're there.'

'That's all right. I haven't seen him in almost a year. I wonder how he's changed.'

She continued chatting, hopping beside him, but Julien tuned most of it out as he began scouting the harbour. From time to time he'd hum when she pulled at his sleeve to show him something, but mostly he was busy trying to see if he recognised a familiar ship.

To his relief he found one, and pulled Louise away from an unhealthy-looking dog to make his way towards it.

'Hello captain,' he greeted, after shoving his way through the crowd. 'Are you headed to Saint-Domingue again soon?'

'You don't waste any time with pleasantries, do you?' the older man laughed, and Julien noted he'd lost another tooth since last seeing him. 'Are you asking to join my crew again?'

'Yes, if you're headed to Saint-Domingue and can take a passenger for me.'

'Got business in the New World, eh? And who's that? Didn't say you had a daughter last time I saw you. At least she takes after her mother, thank God for that.'

'This is my sister, Louise. I need to take her with me.'

'With you?' The captain looked surprised. 'I don't feed someone for free and she can't work for her keep.'

'I'll pay you. She's small, she won't require much.'

The captain grunted. 'My ship's not made for passengers. Where would you keep her? In the fo'c'sle with the others?'

It wasn't ideal by any means. But - 'I can't leave her here and I need to get to the New World.'

The captain frowned, and Louise tugged on Julien's sleeve.

He looked down. 'What is it?'

'I can sew. And do some embroidery.'

'Hear that?' Julien addressed the captain again. 'You'll get to keep what I earn and she'll fix the holes in your clothes. All you have to do is feed her, and she won't eat much. Isn't that a bargain?'

The captain looked at them for another moment, chewing his tobacco, then let out a grunt and nodded. 'All right. You're lucky I know you're worth having on board. Go talk to the first mate, tell him to settle you in. Once that's done, help the lads load the cargo.'

'Thanks. When will we be leaving?'

'Hopefully tomorrow.'

The first mate was the same man Julien remembered, and though he seemed agreeably surprised to see him, he was less happy to see Louise. Nonetheless he assigned them their spot in the forecastle, and left after telling Julien where he could make himself useful.

Julien dropped his things beneath his hammock, snagging an unused crate to use as a small table.

'Are you in trouble?' Louise asked him, seeming to enjoy swinging in her hammock whilst she watched him.

'What do you mean?'

'They seemed upset I was with you. And the gentleman right now wasn't too happy you asked to put us somewhere else.'

'Don't worry about it,' Julien replied. It was true the first mate hadn't exactly _enjoyed_ his request for another spot to sleep, but Julien wanted Louise next to the wall, and himself as her only neighbour. He would sleep easier knowing anyone who tried getting to her would have to sneak past him first; perhaps it was a useless worry, but Julien would not take chances. 'By the way, if you need to go piss at night, wake me up.'

Louise crinkled her nose at his choice of words, and more so when he finished speaking. 'I'm old enough to go by myself, I don't need help.'

'That's not the point. I don't want you wandering alone at night. So wake me. Do you understand?'

'I'm not _scared_.'

'I'm not arguing over this. You'll wake me or I'll tie you to the hammock and you'll have no choice if you want to get up, are we clear?'

Louise was visibly unhappy about it, her small face taking on a sullen look, but she nodded. 'Fine. I promise to wake you. But I don't need your help.'

Julien didn't take the bait, not interested in an argument, and after telling her to stay out of people's ways, left to help load the cargo.

Many of the sailors he recognised, and they recognised him, though it'd been several years since he'd last been at sea and on this vessel. But the familiar faces were a pleasant surprise, and Julien already knew with whom it was nice to share their rations of rum. Fortunately, most did not seem to mind Louise's presence when they later saw her, and though it raised a few eyebrows, her apparent talent with a needle and promise to take some of those chores from them seemed to mellow them enough.

It helped Louise knew how to be unobtrusive. She found a spot on the deck to sit and watched the going-ons of the preparations with wide eyes, and didn't say a word until dinner that evening.

'Am I going to be sea sick?' she asked him, poking at her sauerkraut. 'I don't like this. Do you want it?'

'Maybe. Not everyone is. Even if you are, though, it'll pass. Eat it, it's not that bad.'

'You can have it if you like it.'

'It's good for you. Eat it and stop making a fuss.'

'If you don't, your skin will turn yellow and your teeth will fall out,' an older sailor said to her, and reinforced the point when he grinned at her with missing teeth.

Louise's eyes widened before she quickly looked up at Julien in fright.

'It's true,' he simply said evenly, and was granted the satisfaction of Louise hastily finishing her plate. She looked unhappy but at least Julien knew she wouldn't be hungry that night.

The vessel left Marseille the next morning, much to the captain's delight. Julien had little time to spare Louise at first, and luckily she didn't demand any. Whilst Julien and the other sailors navigated the ship out of the harbour and into the sea, she stood at the taffrail, watching Marseille gradually shrink.

She seemed sensible and Julien felt fairly confident in her ability to mind herself, and so it was only when the coast was a band on the horizon that he had a few minutes to check on her.

'Be careful under the sun,' he told her. 'And don't climb on the taffrail or you'll fall.'

'It's only a little so I can see better.'

'A little inattention is also all you need. Get down.'

She sighed but obeyed, her eyes on the spot that was Marseille.

'Have you been to the New World before?'

'Yes.'

'How is it? Is it very different?'

'Yes,' Julien replied honestly. 'It's nothing like France, save people speak French. Some of them. Others speak Spanish or English, but not where we're going.'

She glanced up at him. 'Did you miss France?'

'No.'

'Not at all?'

'No.'

This time he had her full attention for a moment, visible confusion on her face. 'Why not? France is the greatest kingdom on Earth.'

She truly believed it, and part of Julien wanted to scoff, but for some reason, he couldn't quite voice it. He gained nothing out of souring her opinion.

'Don't stay under the sun for too long,' he merely replied, and returned to his duties.

The ship followed the coastline from afar for the next week, France giving way to Spain as they sailed to Gibraltar to cross into the ocean. The weather was fair, and it was a kindness to both Louise, who had a mild bout of sea sickness for the first days, and Julien, who re-acquainted himself with life at sea. It felt a little like putting on shoes for winter after going barefoot in summer, as Julien had often done as a child because shoes were expensive and he was only allowed them when absolutely necessary; it pinched in a few places, but time and use quickly habituated him again.

Louise for her part hadn't lied when saying she could sew, and wasn't lazy in proving so. Knowing how much he himself hated mending, Julien wasn't too surprised to see the sailors take rather quickly to this new help. For the most part, she sat on a sac on the deck, petting one of the cats and working in silence, though a few times, Julien heard her hum.

She was also always happy to see him, whenever he came to check on her in-between meals, and Julien couldn't understand her delight but often it made him smile back without his really meaning to.

'What are you singing, birdie?' he asked her on a whim, almost a week since their departure. He didn't recognise the melody as a song he knew but he'd heard it several times now.

'It's a song Maman and Papa taught me,' she replied. 'Especially Maman. She used to sing it to me all the time. And to my brother, but he wasn't very interested. I don't know why, I really like it. Do you want to hear it? It's about a swallow. It's really easy, you can learn it as well.'

'Sure,' Julien chuckled. 'Let's hear it, then.'

She smiled brightly at him before beginning her chirping. 'A swallow flies, high she rises. Where the wind blows, eastwards she goes. A speck of land, ashes for sand, a place to rest, and make a nest.'

The rest of the song was in the same vein, short verses detailing the bird's flight across the island in its search for a partner and spot to nest. It truly was easy, the text and rhymes so simple a child could remember them; though it was a rather long song, and that more than its complexity made it surprising Louise remembered it so well.

At least Julien supposed she remembered it well. He wouldn't have been able to tell either way, but he let her entertain him with it.

'What do you think?' she asked when she was finished. 'It's nice, isn't it?'

'It is. Well done.'

'Thank you,' she smiled. 'Now you sing me one.'

 _What?_ That had not been part of the agreement.

'Err - perhaps later,' Julien replied. If he remembered one that wasn't vulgar in content or text, though even then, he wasn't enthused by the prospect. Singing with other sailors whilst working or drunk was fine, because bad singing got lost in the choir, but Julien wasn't disillusioned enough to think his voice was pleasant to listen to. It was average at best, certainly bad when compared to his charge's little bells. 'I'll see you at dinner.'

It was a few days later that they crossed through Gibraltar, and the Atlantic greeted them with an unpleasant storm that night. It wasn't the worst Julien or any of the crew members had endured, but when the squall was over and Julien returned to his hammock, he found Louise huddled against the wall in her blanket.

'What are you doing there?' he asked her quietly, whilst the tired sailors settled around them. 'Get up here, or did you fall down?'

'I kept knocking into the wall,' she replied in a low voice. 'It hurt. And I was scared. Is it over now?'

'Yes. Don't worry. That wasn't a very big storm, everything's fine.'

'Not a big one?' she stuttered with wide eyes, and Julien realised his mistake.

Then again, there was no point lying to her.

'There are worse. Look - come with me,' he corrected himself, realising the other men wanted to sleep. 'Let's go outside for a bit.'

He took a candle and led her on the deck, still wet with water, and sat down on an upturned crate before arranging Louise's blanket so she wouldn't get wet. He himself was still soaked anyway so it made no difference how or where he sat.

'Those storms happen quite often,' he said. 'They come fast but they also go fast. Look at the sky - you can even see the stars now. There's no reason to be afraid.'

'But we could have drowned. What if we get shipwrecked somewhere?'

'We won't. This ship is sturdy. Believe me. Storms aren't pleasant but it'll be all right.'

The weather was hardly the most dangerous part of being at sea; pirates were far worse, but Julien chose not to mention that.

Louise was silent for a moment, tightening her blanket. 'I didn't see any coast this evening. Usually I could still see France, and then Spain. But now there's nothing. I've never been at sea before. It's scary.'

Julien mulled on that, not sure what to reply. He hadn't felt the same, when he'd been a few years older than her and crossing the ocean for the first time; he'd just been desperate for food and somewhere to sleep, and losing sight of France or any country had brought him little distress. Why mourn after a place he'd found no respite in?

It was different now, age and experience giving him the edge, but at the time anything had been better than the gallows.

'The ship's safe,' he repeated, for a lack of better inspiration. 'Don't worry.'

She nodded, then looked from the sky to him for a while.

'Do you miss your family?' she suddenly asked.

'No.'

' _No_?'

'No.'

'Oh,' she stuttered, seeming completely lost before she let out a miserable little sound. 'I miss them. Papa and Maman and my brother.'

'You'll see him again soon.'

'You think so?'

'Yes. You're stubborn. You'll find him.'

Louise smiled faintly. Julien watched her, and couldn't help but wonder. 'Where are your parents?'

Her smile fell, and she looked down at the deck. 'With the Lord. Thieves broke into our home last year.'

'Oh,' Julien replied, and an uncomfortable feeling gnawed at his stomach. He'd robbed houses, though so far he hadn't killed anyone doing so. But he supposed a blow to knock someone out could end fatally. 'Sorry to hear that. Sometimes things go wrong.'

'That's what my cousin said. I don't know. The servants said... I heard them say Papa and Maman were... They were knifed in their bed. That it wasn't thieves, it was something else. Why would anyone do that, though? Everyone liked them.' She sniffed, wiping at her face. 'I only have my brother left. I have to find him.'

'Haven't you seen him since?'

'No. He wasn't at the funeral, but a few months ago I got a letter from him. But he didn't come see me. I don't know why. But I hate the convent my cousin put me in and I miss him, so... I ran away. And then I found you.'

Things were beginning to make sense to Julien, though Louise was probably too young to understand. 'Your cousin is in charge of you?'

'Yes, because my brother disappeared.'

'Did you have a nice life before your parents died? Did you live in a nice house?'

'A very nice house. I loved it.'

Well. That explained a lot. At the same time - 

'How do you hope to find him? Do you even know where he is?'

'He used to sail in the Caribbean. So I'll look there.'

'How do you know he's still alive?'

Louise's face crumpled at that, and immediately Julien regretted his question, even if it was a completely logical one.

'I don't,' she sniffed. 'But he has to be. It wouldn't be fair. I just - I just want things to be normal again. I'll find him and then it'll be fine.'

'Did he give a name? A place?'

'The Caribbean,' she repeated.

'Where in the Caribbean?'

'I don't know. I just know he used to sail in the Caribbean.'

Julien stared at her in bafflement. She was utterly deluded if she thought she'd have success. She had absolutely no idea beyond the name of the sea.

She wouldn't make it, that much was clear. Julien hadn't actually expected to drop her off as soon as their ship anchored in the New World, and had toyed with the idea of accompanying her to the island, or town, her brother was meant to be, but she didn't even have that.

'Where did you grow up?' Louise asked him, completely oblivious to her situation. 'Was it a nice house, too?'

Julien gave a non-committal sound before standing up. 'It's late. Come.'

She obeyed, and once she was asleep, Julien changed out of his wet clothes before settling as well.

For some reason, Louise's problem came back to nag at him over the next days. The sheer impossibility of her endeavour irked him, and he suddenly wondered if it hadn't been stupidity on his part to not question her on all that before. He'd _assumed_ she knew where to go, but she was a child - it had been a mistake.

Worse, now he was sort of, in a way, maybe, a little, responsible for her. He should have taken her back to the convent, gotten a reward and left it at that, but instead he was now saddled with the responsibility of this child who had nowhere to go.

True, he could also simply not care, and take his payment upon arrival, but it sat a little uneasily in Julien's stomach. She was a nice thing, in all honesty, didn't cause him problems, and something inside him pinched when thinking she'd end up dead or enslaved on her own.

Louise, on the other hand, had what she thought her own problems.

'Julien, I want to wash my hair,' she one day told him out of the blue.

'Your hair?'

'Yes. It's been so long and it's not nice any more. I always keep my bonnet on but I also want to wash it as well.'

How in the world did she expect him to make that happen? Sailors kept their hair short for a reason, both out of convenience and as a measure against lice. She, of course, hadn't done so.

She was looking at him expectantly, and Julien grunted. 'Let me think on it.'

In the end, he told her to save her water meant for washing up for a couple of days, did so as well, and put together they eventually had a little bucket's worth of water. Julien found a scrap of soap, and with a soapy rag, set to rubbing at Louise's long hair before rinsing it out. He also used the opportunity to check her scalp, and was satisfied to note she had no lice, at least none that he could find. It cost him a good part of his free time that day, but Louise was beaming when they were done, and she combed through her damp hair with her fingers.

It was a nice colour, and quite thick. She'd be a pretty girl someday, Julien absent-mindedly reflected as he wrung out her bonnet over the bucket. If she was smart about it, she could get herself a good husband and be properly settled.

Before Julien could quite reflect on the bizarreness of his thoughts, humming without listening in response to Louise's chatting, his attention was drawn to one of the other sailors watching them. Many of them had found Louise and Julien's antics amusing before losing interest to play cards or dice, but one of the men kept staring at the girl.

Julien did not like that look. He stared back harshly, until the other sailor noticed his gaze and looked from Louise to Julien before hastily averting his eyes.

Good. Every one of Julien's hackles was raised, a nasty urge to do violence taking shape in his gut at the prospect of his charge getting hurt. If the dirtbag knew Julien had noticed, he'd be less likely to try anything.

'Birdie, I want you to stay on the deck from now on,' he said, interrupting whatever she'd been chirping about. 'Unless I'm in the fo'c'sle as well.'

'What? Why?'

'We'll be arriving soon. Or do you want to miss your first glimpse of the New World on the horizon?'

'Oh, really? How soon??'

'Soon. Don't ask me to spoil it for you.'

It wasn't even much of a lie. Several times now they'd seen the shadow of another vessel on the horizon, and from the time passed, Julien knew they had at most two weeks left before arriving in Saint-Domingue.

Louise was beyond excited at the prospect, and it made Julien smile. He wasn't quite sure why her delight did something nice inside him, but it did.

They'd had a good journey. Only a handful of storms, and no pirates. It was one of the easiest crossings Julien had ever had.

It was the next afternoon, whilst Julien was napping in his hammock, that Louise suddenly shook him awake.

'Julien, come look! There's another ship.'

'What?' Julien replied, rubbing at his face. 'What do you mean?'

'There's another ship coming towards us. Come look!'

Julien stood up and followed her on to the deck. Immediately, he noticed the strange mood of the sailors as they all looked towards the same direction, and when his eyes followed their gaze, he at once understood why.

'What is it?' Louise asked eagerly next to him, tugging at his shirt. 'Why are they coming to us? Who is it? What do they want?'

After weeks of no other sign of mankind beyond their ship, Julien understood her excitement, but he did not share it.

'I don't know,' he replied tightly, looking at the ship coming closer before addressing the sailor nearest to him. 'Did they fly anything?'

'No,' the other man replied, and it hardened Julien's worst suspicions as he looked at the empty, flag-less mast of the quickly-approaching smaller ship. 'But we can't avoid them. They're faster than us.'

'They're going to be in range soon enough. Are we going to wait until they fly anything before firing?'

'Doubt it.'

'Firing?' Louise asked, stopping in her bouncing. 'Fire what?'

'The cannons,' Julien replied.

'W-what? Why?'

'Only one reason not to fly a flag, dolly,' the other sailor replied. 'They're pirates.'

Louise froze, her face turning ashen as she stared with wide eyes at the unknown ship, and Julien's insides hardened.

'Birdie,' he said, grabbing Louise's shoulder to draw her gaze to him. 'Birdie, listen to me. Go hide and don't come out, no matter what happens. Don't come out until I'm calling for you. Do you understand?'

'Hide? Hide where?'

'Where they can't find you, and you'll be safe. Go down into the hold. Stay away from the cannons and the deck, find some place no one can see you, and don't move until you hear me call for you. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' she replied shakily, then seemed to hesitate before suddenly throwing her arms around his middle and squeezing him. 'Please don't die! _Please_.'

Julien was stupefied for a brief moment, entirely lost as to what to do with the child clinging to him, until the captain brusquely barked his orders to get ready.

It snapped him out of it, and he gently loosened Louise's hold around him. 'I'll be fine,' he told her, prying her clutching fingers out of his clothes. 'Now go do as I said. Be still and quiet and everything will be fine.'

She nodded, and wiped her face before running off.

The unknown ship had gotten within firing range and the armed crew hastened to their posts. Julien remained on deck, and he heard the dull thuds of the gun ports' flaps being opened beneath them, followed by the cannons hitting the bulwark.

Something moved along the main mast of the approaching ship, and though they had all expected it, Julien was amongst those who swore when they saw the tell-tale black flag unravelling in the wind.

'Maybe they'll spare us if we just give them the cargo,' Julien heard one of the sailors say. 'They haven't raised the red one yet.'

'Silence!' the captain snapped in reply. 'Those thieving rats won't get a thing from us. Send them to hell!'

Thunder as the cannons fired. There was an explosion against the hull of the pirate ship as one shot struck, and the reaction was immediate. The pirates themselves pushed forth their cannons, and a blood red flag joined the Jolly Roger.

The merchant ship fired again, and the pirates returned in kind. Above the sound of gunshots and cracking wood, the captain shouted his orders to manoeuvre the vessel; they had more cannons than the pirates, but their ship was also larger, and less easy to move than the pirates' lighter frigate. 

They were also outnumbered, as the swarms of men on the deck of the enemy ship told them, and Julien bit back a curse. It seemed to be two to one; it wouldn't go well for them if the pirates managed to board. The captain had realised this, and his orders were clear: keep the broadside of their ship towards the pirates to allow the cannons to strike and hopefully sink them, and also try to avoid the enemy's attempts to come close enough to board.

Once more they got lucky, landing a strike against the enemy hull, but it was more of a graze than a punch. The pirate ship was still afloat, and when the men from below suddenly joined Julien and the others on deck, grim reality set in: they were out of cannon ammunition, and it had become clear they wouldn't be able to shake the pirates off.

Indeed, with a few clever manoeuvres against the larger, now helpless merchant vessel, the pirates had brought the two ships together and thrown the first grappling hooks.

'God help us!' Julien heard next to him.

He didn't answer, his jaw set as he felt the familiar rush of aggressiveness sweep through him, his heart beginning to pound and filling his head with the hum of bloodlust.

The red flag told them the pirates would take no prisoners, and Julien was perfectly fine doing the same.

The pirates boarded with unholy shouting, screaming for blood in curses. The merchant crew greeted them with a volley of bullets, and Julien was satisfied to see his shot blow apart a pirate's head before the two factions met in a mess of blades.

Julien fought as he'd been taught: absolutely dirty. He had no inhibitions striking enemies in the back, blinding them with gun powder in their eyes before slicing their throats, or kicking them where it hurt most if he was close enough.

Perhaps it wasn't fair. But surviving and giving the adversary hell was far more important than fairness.

However no amount of dirty tricks changed the fact they were progressively pushed back, and for every pirate Julien cut down, another came - but their crew was not so lucky in numbers.

Before they knew it, they were almost encircled, and half of their men were down. Amongst those standing, a good portion were wounded, including the captain himself. He was breathing heavily as they rallied together, in a circle whilst the pirates surrounded them.

The pirates had won, but there was no use in surrendering. Julien certainly wouldn't, and if he could take a few more with him, so much the better.

'Don't you wish you'd been sensible now?' a loud, deep voice spoke, and the pirates split to let pass a thick, burly man. His skin was tanned from the sun, brown eyes glinting with malice and a smile on his face his two golden teeth couldn't make less ugly. His attire identified him as the captain, and he sneered at the outnumbered remaining crew. 'Could have ended so much better for everyone.'

'You'll see how well you've ended once you're in Hell,' the merchant captain spat back, and Julien growled in agreement.

'I suppose you'll know before I do, by letting my crew have their sport with you,' the pirate laughed. 'I - '

'Captain!' a sailor next to Julien exclaimed, pointing at the horizon. 'Look!'

Immediately all did, following the sailor's finger. At once, the merchant crew cheered whilst the pirates cursed, and the merchant captain let out a hoarse laugh.

'Perhaps you'll be first after all!' he told the suddenly grim pirates.

There, several miles from their interlocked ships and closing in quickly, was a huge warship, flying the white flag of the _Royale_.

The pirate captain looked back at them, eyes narrowed in anger. 'They're still far enough I'll have time to kill the lot of you, you dogs, or at least half of what's left of your pathetic crew.'

The merchant captain looked ready to answer, but the first mate suddenly leant in and whispered a few words. The captain's jaw twitched, displeasure visible on his face, and he let out an angry sigh before he addressed the pirate.

'We won't make it easy for you. If you waste your time on us now, you'll have nothing to show when you have to go before the _Royale_ catch you. Here's my deal, you wretched devil: leave my men alone, grab what you can and then flee, or I'll see you be hanged with your own innards.'

It wasn't an unreasonable offer, and though the pirate's lip curled at it, Julien knew it was in both their best interests. He could guess why his captain had suggested it, for all his anger at ceding part of his cargo to pirates: they were still two weeks away from land, and if the pirates slaughtered the rest of them, or at least half, he wouldn't have enough crew to man the ship. The _Royale_ might help them, but that did not replace experienced seamen.

A heartbeat of silence, then the pirate nodded. 'All right. You, keep an eye on them, and you, go down into the hold and grab what you can before those bastards get here.'

So it was, and several of the pirates went into the hold, hurrying back out with sacs and crates of goods. Julien could almost hear his captain gnash his teeth at the sight of the thieves making away with his precious cargo, but there was nothing for it.

The pirates threw a few last, large sacs on to their deck before scrambling back aboard their own ship and cutting the lines, hurrying to get out of the warship's reach.

'The Devil take them,' the captain spat, and Julien was equally relieved and angered to see them escape as well.

The last line had been cut, and the pirate frigate was manoeuvring away, when an awful scream cut through the air. It was a sound of uninhibited terror, and for a moment Julien's mind refused to process it, because he knew that voice and -

He threw himself at the taffrail, leaning over to get a proper glimpse at the deck of the pirate ship, and his heart missed such a beat he felt ready to throw it up.

'Don't kill her!' he screamed, the sight of the pirate captain pulling Louise up by her hair tearing at things inside him. Near them was an empty linen sac, her ill-chosen hiding place. 'Don't kill her! Please! I'll pay a ransom! Don't kill her!'

The pirate ship moved, blocking his sight with her sails, and Julien was given no answer as she quickly sailed off. He screamed his plea again, desperate to make the pirates _hear_ and _listen_ , emotions he couldn't name making his stomach twist and head spin as he was powerless to stop them, watching them _disappear_ and the little girl with them.

They couldn't. They _couldn't_. He needed her back. He needed her _back_ and _they couldn't take her_.

Vaguely he became aware of people holding him, preventing him from falling over the rail, and talking to him.

He didn't know what they said, mind utterly blank from shock. He could do nothing but stand there and stare after the escaping frigate.

He couldn't have said how much time had passed when the captain gave his shoulder a shake, and told him to help with the dead and wounded before repairing the ship. In a strange daze, Julien obeyed, separating their wounded from the dead to be carried into the forecastle before cleaning up the deck.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon, when the sun began to disappear beneath the waves, that Julien began to _grasp_ what had happened. The repetitive motion of scrubbing the deck required no thinking, leaving his mind to settle and finally process the events.

'Julien,' he heard, and looked up to see the captain standing over him. 'Lad. Are you better?'

Julien had no answer, just staring at him, and the captain crouched down. 'I talked with the commanding officer. Apparently that ship, that flag, belongs to a pirate named Gilles Goldtooth. The _Royale_ are hunting him, they've been hunting him for a while. I told them about your sister. If they find him, they'll bring her back. Julien. There's nothing you could have done. I am sorry - if we had fought them, the _Royale_ would have rescued her. It was my fault. Don't blame yourself.'

Julien took a heartbeat to digest that. That Louise had been snatched for him had done a strange, unknown sort of _thing_ to him, which he couldn't quite explain because he'd never experienced it before, but it felt like something inside him had been _dented_ , suffered damage that was hard to articulate.

But hearing the captain speak, and having a name to blame for that emotion, made something very familiar rise inside him: anger.

Vicious, growling, caustic _anger_.

'Gilles Goldtooth?' he repeated, committing that name to memory.

'Yes. He's active in the Caribbean and nearby territories. They'll find him.'

Perhaps they would. If Gilles Goldtooth was lucky, they would. 

If Goldtooth was unlucky, Julien would find him first.

He had to. He had to, because it was the only way to get Louise back, or at least know what the bastard had done with her. In the best case scenario, the pirate would listen to her tale of a wealthy brother, and - 

Julien bit the inside of his cheek. That brother, if he still existed, would have been a great ally, except Julien had never asked Louise about him. He'd been reluctant to, because Louise was quite talkative but she had the uncomfortable habit of asking him questions in turn, and more often than not Julien hadn't wanted to answer them.

So he'd never inquired after her family, not since asking where her parents were, with the result he now didn't even know her brother's name. He didn't know _hers_ , beyond her first name.

He'd assumed they'd figure it out once they'd arrived. He'd never thought she'd get taken from him before.

But even if the pirates listened to her story, that didn't mean her brother was still alive. She was utterly at their mercy, and they'd probably sell her if they had no other use for her.

A little voice told Julien that if her brother was dead, he wouldn't get paid for returning her either, but it was drowned out by the visceral, deep-seated _fury_ at her disappearance, and Julien's responding drive to find her.

'Lad,' the captain broke through his thoughts. 'Lad. Be sensible. Don't do anything rash.'

'Yes, captain,' Julien replied, his mind predominantly occupied with the different ways to make Goldtooth talk.

The captain studied him for another brief moment before clapping his shoulder. 'You did well today. I'm glad I took you on board. I'm sorry for your sister, but if she's half as tough as you, she'll make it until the _Royale_ hang that worthless rat. I'm sure the Lord's watching over her.'

Julien just nodded and the captain left him. The other man wasn't completely wrong: Louise was quite hardy, but she was still only a little girl. Time was not in Julien's favour if he wanted to find her well and alive.

The remaining two weeks seemed interminable to Julien. Louise's empty spots in the forecastle or on deck were a constant reminder, and as the days passed, it hardened his resolve until, when they finally arrived, he only had one goal in mind.

Their vessel anchored in Cap-Français, the large port on the northern coast that was closest to the Spanish half of the island. They were fairly on time, to the captain's immense satisfaction, but Julien stayed only to finish his onboard duties before resigning from the crew.

'Don't do anything rash,' the captain repeated. He also handed Julien some money, saying it was for the time Louise hadn't been with them, and Julien thanked him before leaving.

It had been several years since he'd last been in Saint-Domingue, and he usually hadn't stayed for long. The town had grown, as was usual in prosperous lands, but some things remained unchanged; the hot, humid weather, the mountains of emerald green in the distance, the song of colourful birds mixed with the shrill cry of the gulls, and beneath the wooden docks, sand so pale it resembled snow.

Foreign beauty to the unused eye, and enough to throw off most newcomers, but fortunately for him, he remembered the core workings of the colony well enough. There were the semi-respectable parts of Cap-Français, where merchants proper traded, and then there were... the other parts. The ones Julien hoped would give him information.

Being a newcomer was almost never an advantage in those circles. Julien was aware of it, and it took him a few days before finding an inn, tucked away in a forgotten part of the harbour, that seemed promising. The sign hanging off the outer wall was so weathered it was almost unreadable, and the inside was void of any decorations because it'd just get broken in the next drunken fight.

Julien had something to eat and drink, and waited until the night progressed before going to sit at the counter. The patrons were more or less whom he'd expected: rough, vulgar and on the lower echelons even for sailors.

'Hey,' he said to the innkeeper, whilst left and right of him, drunkards were snoring on the counter. 'I'm looking for someone.'

'Aren't we all,' the innkeeper sniggered. 'There's a whorehouse right next door, try your luck there.'

'I mean a man.'

'Yeah, I'm sure they have that, too.'

'Not that kind. I'm looking for someone named Goldtooth.'

The innkeeper stopped laughing, and fixated him for a moment before grunting. 'You and half the _Royale_ , mate.'

'Do I look like one of those toffs?'

'You never know,' the innkeeper let out a brief chuckle. 'Not much I can tell you, anyway. Goldtooth used to flit around these parts, but not anymore. Not since he started attacking our merchants and not just the Spaniards and English.'

'He's not employed by the King, is he?'

'Never was as far as I know. But you know how it goes - the enemy of my enemy is my friend. As long as he just bothered the other ones, he was off the hook. Then he got cocky, and now the _Royale_ are after him too.'

'Saint-Domingue is still Saint-Domingue though, is it?'

'Oh yes,' the innkeeper laughed, and Julien understood.

Parts of the colony were civilised, but mostly it was still a wild island where gold spoke more than morals. Goldtooth may not be welcome in the larger towns any more, but there were more than enough small coastal settlements who'd accept his and his crew's riches without any questions. Julien just had to find which one.

'Any ideas where?'

'I suppose you could try a bit more westward. Turtle Island never quite lost its appeal, eh?'

'Thanks,' Julien nodded. 'One more drink to my future success.'

'What do you want from Goldtooth anyway?' the innkeeper chuckled as he served Julien another glass of rum. 'Be glad he doesn't want anything from you.'

'He has something of mine. I want it back.'

'Mate, even if he had my wife I'd say just let him have it,' the innkeeper laughed. 'Well, especially if he had my wife. You sound crazy.'

'Ah well, maybe. By the way, since we're on the subject - have you heard the name Jean de Faucheville before?'

'Faucheville? The father was enough of a legend I still get told stories, and that was over twenty years ago. But I'm guessing you mean the son?'

'Whoever's sailing now, I suppose.'

'Well then,' the innkeeper chuckled. 'None of them. You're obsessed with has-beens, eh? Haven't heard about the young Faucheville in almost a year. If that's your next target, I hope you like chasing wild geese, because it's what you'll be doing.'

'He's no longer here?'

'No. Not that I ever saw him, he actually worked for His _Grand_ Majesty,' the innkeeper intoned mockingly. 'Just heard his name. Corsair. Disappeared. No idea where he went or what happened. Some say he lost his _lettre de marque_ , dunno if that's true. He was good at what he did, the Red Reaper they called him. If they took his _lettre_ away, he probably fucked up somewhere. Had some beef with Goldtooth, or at least so I heard. Maybe you should ask Goldtooth about that too, he might have been the one who stabbed him.'

'If I remember to,' Julien chuckled. 'Thanks.'

It wasn't the best of news regarding his (actual) contract, but Julien relegated that to later. Jean de Faucheville could wait; Louise not.

He finished his drink then left the inn. There was another one not too far away he'd seen, and he'd take a room there just in case his questioning had irritated someone.

Doubtful, since most of the inn looked passed out from drinks, but prudence cost nothing.

He walked down the street, and had turned the corner when he heard the short whistle.

'Hey, mate! Wait just a moment.'

He turned around, and was met with a tree of a person. He himself wasn't small or lean by any means, but the dark-skinned giant in front of him was something else.

Luckily he was armed. 'What?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Come a bit closer, I don't want to shout.'

'My pistol's loaded.'

'Good for you. So's mine. I just overheard your talking with Baudet. The innkeeper. I think I can help.'

Julien narrowed his eyes, suddenly very glad he'd not had more than two drinks in the span of several hours. This sounded very strange.

'Can you?'

'Yes,' the man replied. 'If you're after Goldtooth, I know someone else who has a bone to pick with him.'

'Do you?'

'Yes. If you're interested, come to the _Merry Coconut_ tomorrow night. We'll be there.'

'We?'

'My captain and I.'

'Huh,' Julien replied, not sure what to make of that yet, and the stranger nodded by way of goodbye before turning around and disappearing into the dark alley.

Interesting. Julien finally arrived at the inn, got a room and slept on the bizarre encounter.

The next morning, he had breakfast and mulled on it.

It couldn't hurt, he finally decided. If the innkeeper was correct, and Julien had no reason to think he'd lied, then Goldtooth and his men were lying low around Cap-Français; the possibility of the African stranger being one of Goldtooth's men wasn't very high. And Julien was entirely ready to believe the pirate had irritated more than enough people Julien may very well have found an ally.

It cost nothing at any rate. Julien didn't really have a better lead for now, the information the innkeeper had given him quite vague. Certainly nothing concrete enough to charge into it.

So late that afternoon, he asked for directions to the _Merry Coconut_ , and headed there. He'd rather arrive first and look at the place.

He found it without too much difficulty, on the other side of the town but in an equally questionable district. The _Merry Coconut_ was aptly named, if one considered happily drunk, nut-brained individuals to fall into that category.

A quick survey of the tavern told him he was indeed there first, and so he settled at a table in a quiet corner and had dinner whilst he waited. He wasn't much of a connoisseur of the New World's fare, with its strange fruits and flavours, but it was at least fresh and after weeks of the same stale meals, that in itself was enough to make it a treat.

Once he was finished, he entertained himself with his deck of cards, keeping an eye on the door as he did so.

He'd have thought the stranger to be hard to miss, given his sheer size, but in spite of that Julien almost jumped when the man abruptly stood in front of him.

'Glad you came,' the stranger said with the hint of a smile. 'This is my captain.'

So saying he moved slightly aside, letting Julien see the second man behind him, and things suddenly both _stopped_ and _moved_.

Julien's head spun but his heart stilled, and he stared without being able to say a word. For months, though he'd never admit to it, he'd thought of that face, those pretty eyes, that lovely hair, and they had been somehow involved in every lust-fuelled dream he'd had. He'd fantasised about meeting again, and all the shameless things he wanted to do, but he'd never expected it to actually materialise, and under such circumstances of all things.

Judging by his wide-eyed look and stupefied expression, neither had his one-time lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the lovely feedback!
> 
> NB: Saint-Domingue is modern-day Haiti.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a brief moment of silence wherein Julien and the stranger stared at one another, then the other man clapped his associate's arm and gave a small chuckle.

'Thank you, Thomas. That's a very flattering introduction. We're just partners,' he continued towards Julien, with a smile that made Julien's heart miss a beat. His voice was lovelier than Julien remembered, less hoarse and harsh in tone. There might have been a red tint to his cheeks, though it was hard to tell under the rather poor lighting. 'You've already met Thomas. I am Antoine Fauchet. It's a delight to meet you.'

 _Antoine._ The family name registered as well, but it wasn't what Julien wanted to call him when covering his neck with kisses whilst his lover let out another one of those throaty chuckles, and -

Julien realised he was staring, both Antoine and Thomas looking expectantly at him, and he nodded. 'Julien Moreau.'

Thomas gave a nod of acknowledgement but Antoine's smile was all Julien could see. 'Fantastic. Do you mind?'

'No.'

They sat down, and Antoine wasted no time. He leant forward with one arm on the table to address Julien, eyes shining brightly.

'Thomas said you might be willing to work together. Is that true?'

 _Yes_ , the unreasonable thing in Julien's chest screamed, but he had just enough mind left to reply something else.

'It depends. What is it exactly?'

'Thomas said Goldtooth took something from you. I'm in the same boat. Well, I would be in mine, if not for him. We can help each other.'

'He is right,' Julien replied. 'What do you propose?'

'As great as Thomas is, I'll need a few more hands to get even with Goldtooth. So we'll work together to get back what we're owed, you and I, and that's all. You help me, and I'll help you.'

'What exactly did Goldtooth take from you?' Julien asked, more than a little curious. 'And what's your plan?'

A short pause, then Antoine pulled something that could only be described as a grimace. It was entirely adorable in Julien's opinion, and next to Antoine, Thomas gave a snort of what might have been amusement.

'Well,' Antoine replied, and scratched his forehead with a look that was surely too cute to be embarrassment. 'He took my ship.'

'Your _ship_?'

'I said he's my captain,' Thomas said evenly.

'Without a ship,' Julien repeated, just in case he'd misheard.

'I said it was a flattering introduction, though it's overstating the truth for now.'

'Where's your crew?'

'You have to pay them. And I... may have run into difficulties regarding that lately, so...'

'So they left and Goldtooth kicked you off your ship and appropriated her with his men.'

'Not _exactly_ , but... yes.'

It was utterly ridiculous, and Julien barely held back a snort. 'How many of your new crew have you got so far? You'll need men to sail her, assuming we get her back first.'

A brief pause, then Antoine gave Julien a smile so white and bright it reminded him of a string of pearls. 'The position of first mate is still open.'

'You have _no one_?'

'Losing my ship hasn't _much_ helped my financial situation.'

That was true, but it made the whole thing even more ludicrous than it already was.

'So how did you think to proceed?'

'Well. I suppose finding like-minded people who have something to gain from making Goldtooth miserable is a good start.'

'Are there that many?'

'I always thought quality was better than quantity.'

Julien stared. 'Do you at least have a plan?'

'We go there, man my ship, cut down anyone who tries to stop us, and then leave with our things.'

'It's a work in progress,' Thomas added.

Again Julien could only stare, and something bitter rose in his throat. 'You're not being serious. This is utterly ridiculous and I'd rather you didn't waste my time.'

For a short moment it was silent. Thomas showed no reaction, but Antoine's smile faded, and he briefly looked away before meeting Julien's gaze again. Without his easy grin, Julien suddenly saw the deep shadows beneath his eyes and the frown between his eyebrows, and for the first time noticed how exhausted the other man looked.

'Listen,' Antoine said in a low voice, tiredness audible in every syllable. 'I'm very serious. I need my ship back. But I don't have a _sous_ and nothing but gold buys the work of men who have no loyalty to me. I am extremely low on options but I will do my best with what I have. I'm not foolish enough to think Thomas and I alone can do it, but with you, provided you know how to fight and sail, and perhaps a few others, it might work. At the very least I will try, and you can't hope to be successful on your own either. So let's join efforts, and maybe it'll pay off.'

Julien didn't really need a moment to think on it. Antoine's back was straight and he spoke without stuttering, but there was a hidden note in his voice, a tension in his thin fingers where they rested on the table next to his hat, that made Julien want to see that _gone_.

And also, Antoine wasn't wrong. Julien could certainly do with help himself, even if his item of interest was probably easier to extract than a ship.

'All right,' he nodded. 'All right, let's see how we can help each other.'

For the smile he got in response, Julien thought he'd have done it for free.

But that was stupid, he mentally kicked himself. Any partnership was off to a bad start if he kept getting idiotic thoughts such as this, and he tried his best to ignore the little _skip_ in his chest as Antoine beamed at him.

'Fantastic! I'm sure we'll make a terrific team. Now, out of curiosity and for better planning, what is it you want back from Goldtooth?'

The question reminded Julien why he was sitting here in the first place, and the nasty anger in his stomach rose again.

'My sister. Goldtooth took my sister when he raided the ship we were on.'

Antoine's eyes widened and his smile waned again, but it was different this time, out of respect for Julien's loss and not personal misery. 'I'm sorry,' he replied, an unexpected edge in his voice that felt almost at odds with his sympathetic expression. 'I'm really sorry. We'll get her back. I promise. If we don't, he'll pay for it.'

It was exactly what Julien wanted and needed to hear, and that hardened his determination in a way little else could.

It didn't matter how bad their odds were, or how impossible it seemed. He needed to get Louise back and so he would.

He nodded in reply, internally bolstered. 'We still don't have a plan though. Do you even know where he is?'

'We do,' Antoine responded. 'He's settled on an island further north in the Caribbean, and we know how to get there. Assuming we manage that, once we're there we'll see how and where they keep watch of my ship. Goldtooth's got his own frigate, he really just took mine to spite me, so we'll have to make sure they won't give chase if they spot us. Anyway. Do you have any idea what he might have done with your sister?'

'No,' Julien replied honestly, and it tasted sour. 'I don't.'

Thomas hummed. 'That makes things more difficult. She might no longer even be with him.'

'He's the only one who might know that.'

'Yes,' Antoine concurred. 'And we'll help you find that out. I had hoped we could snatch our things and sneak off in the dead of the night, but if we can't find her, we'll need to interrogate someone. That'll complicate things.'

It did. The logistics of their endeavour were not looking better.

'But if you help me get my ship back, you have my word I'll help you get your sister back, no matter how difficult it might be,' Antoine continued, his tone serious as he looked Julien in the eye. 'I promise.'

Julien didn't trust easily, and under normal circumstances he might have scoffed at such words, but the logical part of his mind seemed strangely silent for some reason.

Several questions remained though. 'What's your strategy?' he asked again. 'I assume your ship's not a rowing boat. We'll need more than the three of us to man her.'

'Yes. Ideally at least a dozen, but I suppose we could make-do with less considering circumstances. If we're lucky and the weather's fair when we get her, we'll be all right until I can recruit more. At least I'd have gotten my ship back. Then... Well. That'll be my problem, to figure out a way I can be useful to you in turn.'

'Hum,' Julien replied, an idea forming in his mind. It was utterly illogical, and he didn't know _why_ he'd bother, but it'd fix their problem immediately. 'Assuming you had the money, do you know where you'd get your new men?'

'Yes. I know where to find several of my former crew whom I know would come back, and - '

'Do _we_ want them back?' Thomas interrupted, and Julien wondered the same thing.

'We already know them,' Antoine argued. 'I'm not exactly fond of the idea either but at least we know what they're worth.'

'Good as sailors, utterly useless in a pinch,' was Thomas' verdict. 'They have no loyalty to you.'

To Julien's surprise, Antoine smiled. 'Compared to you, no one does, no. But still,' his smile faded, 'we're not exactly drowning in options. We just need them for this one job, it doesn't mean I'll keep them afterwards.'

'I don't want them afterwards,' Thomas replied evenly. 'Or before. You will make the final decision, but you know mine.'

'I do. Thank you,' Antoine smiled again, and suddenly, something clenched in Julien's chest. It was ugly and miserable and Julien didn't understand it, and it only seemed to become worse when Antoine redirected his smile towards him. 'To get back to your question, I'll find the men we need. Perhaps not the best ones, but they'll do. I just have to figure out a way to make it attractive to them.'

Thomas shot him a sceptical look, and Julien internally concurred. What way would Antoine "figure out" now that he hadn't before?

And Julien was running out of time. Antoine's ship could stay for a year in a harbour, but Louise couldn't stay lost for that long. Julien had to find her _now_.

He did some quick maths before addressing Antoine again. 'What if I knew how to pay for, say, a dozen men?'

Both Antoine and Thomas stared at him. 'How?'

'I have an idea,' Julien replied, thinking of the money Pierre de Faucheville had given him. It would cover the costs of their endeavour, providing they didn't exceed reason.

Why he was willing to spend his own money on this was another question, but Julien didn't have the time now to unravel his motivations. All that mattered was that it solved their problem and put him one step closer to Louise.

'Do you?' Antoine said, sounding both confused and a little doubtful.

'Yes. Find the men, I'll find the money. Consider it a... contract, if you will.'

A short silence. 'I mean,' Thomas eventually said, shooting Antoine a look out of the corner of his eye. 'He wouldn't be the worst bastard we've ever worked for.'

'Thomas,' Antoine replied, but he sounded too distracted to truly make it a reproach.

'Probably less ungrateful, too.'

' _Thomas_ ,' Antoine repeated, tapping his fingers on the table as he pondered, then met Julien's eyes again. 'All right. If you are sure about your idea, we can work with that.'

'I am. Once we've figured out a plan, we can go find a crew.'

Antoine looked at him for another moment, then he nodded. 'All right. If it works, I will owe you both money and a favour. The favour I'll return by helping you find your sister, the money I'll find a way to compensate you so we're even. It seems fair to me.'

'Deal,' Julien replied.

They shook hands, Julien trying (and failing) not to think of anything stupid when their skin touched, before Thomas cleared the table off their mugs. Antoine unrolled a scroll on the vacated spot, and Julien's curiosity was immediately tickled.

It was a map showing several islands, Julien wondering where Antoine had gotten such a nice one. The lines were fine and precise, the landscape and surrounding sea artfully illustrated and the drawn borders were an intricate design of plants and birds.

'This is where Goldtooth and his men reside,' Antoine said, tapping a point on the western coast of the largest island. 'A small village with their women and other niceties. It's quite well sheltered and not the easiest spot to sneak up on but I think we could manage if we're clever about it.'

'Where did you get this?' Julien asked.

Antoine paused for a moment, not quite meeting Julien's eyes. 'That's a long story,' he eventually replied. 'All that matters now is that it gets us to my ship and your sister.'

That was true, even if it wasn't quite the answer Julien wanted. Still, it didn't really make a difference where Antoine had gotten it - a dead crewman of Goldtooth's perhaps? - as long as it was accurate, and Julien wasn't a stranger to using ill-gotten gains for his benefit.

He wasn't personally familiar with that island - he hadn't even known it existed - but Antoine and Thomas were apparently enough so to decide how to best sail there and where to dock their boat in question.

'We still need that as well,' Julien said.

'Thomas and I will take care of it,' Antoine replied. 'I estimate we'll need around... four days. Give us four days, then we'll meet here again with hopefully all we need.'

A tall order. Julien was doubtful, but he let it slide for now.

'All right. And once we're there, how do you think to proceed?'

'It depends where they're keeping my ship, and many other things... I have to admit I haven't been to that island in very long. Its defences or layout might have changed since then. We'll see when we get there.'

In all honesty, Julien had worked under worse auspices. Improvisation was often just as good as any other plan.

He nodded, and Antoine gave him another smile. He had done so a lot over the course of their conversation, and yet _still_ , the stutter in Julien's chest didn't fail.

Rationality told him that reaction was bad news, but _irrationally_ deep down he didn't care, and he did his best not to think of it. Or think about any other of the bizarre things that should have rung all bells inside his head yet were strangely dulled.

It was clear, from Antoine's passing comments, that he and Goldtooth had some form of history together - in other words, Antoine had history with a pirate. Respectable captains generally did not have histories with pirates, and would probably look to the _Royale_ , not people of Julien's calibre, for help in retrieving their ship. 

Additionally there was Thomas, whom Julien had first assumed was a slave, but he talked and behaved as a freeman - men like him, however, were seldom employed on merchant vessels in Julien's experience. They did however make up a significant part of pirate crews, especially if they'd run away.

Lastly, Antoine did not strike Julien as one of the many captains he'd sailed under. From his youth to the small golden hoop in his left ear, his worn clothes and quick grin, he didn't look like the type careful merchants would entrust their goods with.

Julien knew all that. He knew it, but strangely none of it seemed to matter, or at least not as much as it probably should have.

It was a lack of other options and absolutely not because of any long-lashed, almond-shaped eyes, Julien repeated to himself.

'Four days' time, then,' he repeated, deciding to give them the benefit of the doubt even if it seemed ludicrous to him. 'Here. You'll have dug up a boat and a semblance of a crew.'

'Yes,' Antoine smiled. 'Four days' time. And you'll have dug up the money.'

So four days passed, and it was just enough time Julien had regained a modicum of sense to question what he'd gotten into.

He was used to dealing with shady characters, and making alliances of convenience. But he was usually not stupid enough to put himself in precarious situations doing so.

What prevented Antoine and Thomas from killing him and taking his money, or otherwise backstabbing him? He was outnumbered and if they really did pursue the _occupation_ he suspected, they wouldn't even bat an eye doing so. It was reckless of him, bordering on idiocy.

But no, everything inside him screamed when he saw Antoine again on the agreed afternoon, and the other man joined Julien at his table. Thomas wasn't with him, and that would have been ideal to ambush Julien outside the inn, but the thought evaporated with the lovely smile Antoine threw at him.

'I have good news, Moreau. We are almost ready to go.'

'You really found a boat?'

Antoine looked quite proud of himself. 'Yes.'

'How?'

'With your help.'

'My help?'

'Yes. I've _found_ it, but it might take two men to _get_ it.'

Julien couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed by this. 'And how would two men "get" it, exactly?'

'By relieving the owner of a gambling debt, which means he gets to keep his boat and will give it to me because he owes me a favour.'

'You mean buying it?'

'No. He bet it away for far less than it's worth. It's really a bargain if you think about it.'

That was one way to put it. 'And this boat is serviceable?'

'Yes. I'll be sitting in it as well so I suppose there'd be no use in me lying to you about it,' Antoine said with a small chuckle.

'And how much is this gambling debt?'

'Well. Not that much. If you've upheld your part of the bargain, it should fit within our finances.'

'We'll see. Did you also find whom you were looking for?'

'Perhaps not _entirely_ yet, but I promise I will have by tomorrow. Preferably before the boat's been claimed by the winners.'

Julien wasn't entirely sure what to think. He couldn't say he was surprised to hear Antoine hadn't been wholly successful - even a proper boat in that timeframe went beyond his expectations - but his urgency made it rather frustrating.

It seemed impossible however to let that frustration out on the other man, not when he was watching Julien with eyes shining brighter than the dim light in the inn.

Unhelpfully, it made Julien remember things he didn't know how to address.

Should he even? Apart from initial surprise at seeing him, Antoine had shown no acknowledgement of their first meeting, and, well... Thomas had been present last time. Perhaps it wasn't too surprising. Were they - ?

The possibility twisted something painful inside Julien, and that made the decision for him - _shut up about it_. Right now he needed to find Louise, and making a mess of things with ridiculous sentimentality wouldn't help. What had Antoine said? _We'll work together to get back what we're owed and that's all._

It seemed worse, somehow, for it to be all now that he'd against all odds found his mysterious lover again, and knew his name and seen him smile and talked with him and -

'Moreau?'

'Huh? Ah,' Julien replied, clearing his throat and trying to push the sting between his lungs away. 'Yes. All right. I guess it's a start. Did you say anything about where you got the necessary gold?'

'That would have been difficult, considering I don't know myself,' Antoine said with a teasing grin. 'But you were successful?'

'Yes. Let's keep that between us, though. I don't want to be known as the treasurer of the crew, I already have enough problems.'

'All right,' Antoine chuckled. 'But are you sure? I mean... I guess you're paying for the whole thing. Somehow. I hope you'll share your secret with me one day, I think I could use advice on how to make money appear when I need it.'

'If I did, you wouldn't need me anymore.'

'Oh, oh no, I'd always - err,' Antoine stuttered, and suddenly flushed crimson. 'I mean, all right. Fine. Whatever works for you. Anyway. We still have time to finish your drink, we're not expected at the harbour until later. For the boat. So you can, you know, have a look at it. Anyway.'

Antoine cleared his throat before taking a sip of his drink, looking anywhere but at Julien. It was a bit of an awkward silence, and Julien felt it keenly even as he had no idea how to start another conversation on his own.

He'd never felt the need to fill the silence before. He said whatever he had to say and was content to leave it at that, but this felt different. He _wanted_ to keep talking with Antoine, about anything really, except he couldn't think of a single thing.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Julien knew of a million things he wanted to ask and tell Antoine, from what his favourite dish was to how pretty the shine in his hair looked, but all of that was stupid.

Antoine lightly drummed his fingers against the table, eyes still downcast, and again Julien noted how thin Antoine's fingers were, as well as the curve of his cheekbone that was perhaps a little too prominent. Antoine had had a decently strong grip when they'd shaken hands several days ago, but compared to Julien's, Antoine's hand seemed almost frail.

It bothered Julien.

'I haven't eaten yet,' he lied. 'How about it?'

Antoine looked up to give him a small smile. 'Oh, no. Thank you, I'm not hungry. But you can, of course. Please take your time.'

Julien didn't insist. He merely ordered another serving of what he'd had previously (he already knew it was tasty) and had a few bites before setting down his cutlery.

'It's not bad but I've had better,' he replied to Antoine's curious look. He didn't miss the way the other man stared a bit too long at the food, and it solidified his resolve. 'Want to try?'

'A small bite, maybe,' Antoine finally agreed.

Julien pushed the plate towards him, and it felt like a little victory to watch Antoine try a piece of the fish.

Now he just had to make sure Antoine tried another. And another. And the vegetables, too. So -

'What's the worst storm you've ever known?' he blurted out, unable to think of anything else to say.

'The worst storm?' Antoine blinked, seeming a little surprised before he smiled. 'Oh, it was a nightmare. Not far off from Havana, in the Gulf of Mexico. I usually didn't sail there but I wanted to see what surprises those waters held, and well, you could say I was surprised.'

So Antoine began chattering away, smiling at Julien and telling little jokes and best of all, staying distracted enough he kept eating, until his fork scraped against the empty plate.

He glanced down and his eyes widened. 'I'm sorry,' he said, genuine distress in his voice when he looked back at Julien. 'It wasn't my intention - '

'It's fine,' Julien replied, hating the change in Antoine's tone. 'I wouldn't have eaten it anyway. At least this way the matron won't have my head for being rude and sending a full plate back to the kitchen.'

It was only half a joke. Julien had glimpsed the innkeeper's wife and there was a reason, he thought, she managed quite well a house that catered to the dregs of the colonies.

Antoine was still frowning a little. 'Are you sure? I'll buy you another - '

'No. It's fine. I'm not hungry. Forget about it. Let's just go when you're done.'

'Thank you,' Antoine smiled. 'But I promise the next meal will be on me.'

'Sure,' Julien shrugged, though he didn't care either way. He'd already wanted to invite Antoine to a meal before, he remembered, when he'd thought that meal might be breakfast - now he'd done it, and in truth he was quite happy about it.

They finished their ale before leaving the inn, and Antoine led the way to the harbour. The unhelpful part of Julien's mind immediately noted how well sunlight suited Antoine, as much as candle light and probably any other light because - because nothing, and Julien tried (not quite successfully) not to think of that as he followed, focusing on his curiosity about what boat Antoine had managed to snag. Probably a modest fishing boat of some kind, but as long as it provided reasonable shelter from the sun and didn't sink, Julien was fine with anything. It most likely wasn't the magnificent warship newly anchored at the docks.

He wasn't the only one staring, though Antoine looked as if he'd swallowed a wasp.

'Someone very fine's come to visit the colonies, it seems,' Julien commented.

'Fine like a skunk,' Antoine muttered, but it was so low Julien wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. What was a "skunk" anyway? He'd probably misunderstood.

'What?' he asked.

'Nothing,' Antoine replied, not looking at him but fixating the warship several docks away as though it might bite him.

Julien frowned, a little irked at being brushed aside when it was clearly _something_ , but his attention was soon redirected towards more immediate matters.

It seemed Antoine had been anxiously awaited when they arrived at the end of a long dock, and the man leaning his weight against a post jumped up to greet them.

'Captain!' he beamed. 'You came!'

'I said so,' Antoine smiled, then gestured towards the happy man. 'Moreau, this is Étienne Enjour. He used to be part of my crew several years ago. Enjour, this is Julien Moreau. He'll be coming with me.'

'Ah!' Étienne exclaimed, appraising Julien from head to foot. He was a hardened man, about fifteen years older than Julien in his guess, with several scars on his hands and face and the stout body of a worker. 'You've also come to look at my boat, eh? Please don't let them take her, those fools will ram her into the cliffs.'

'Don't worry,' Antoine reassured him. 'Moreau, what do you think?'

Antoine pointed at the boat behind the man, and Julien approached until he got a proper look.

It was pretty much exactly what he'd expected. Decently sized to carry several people, two sails on the mast and looking old but well taken care of. In the boat sat a young man, tall and with the boniest elbows Julien had ever seen, staring up at Julien with a mixture of fright and defiance as though ready to jump to the boat's defence should Julien insult her.

The boy wouldn't need to, fortunately. 

'It'll work,' he said to Antoine, and Étienne heaved a sigh of relief.

'I think so as well,' Antoine nodded, before looking at Étienne. 'All right. We'll take her. If we can, we'll try to bring her back to you when we're done.'

'Don't count on it,' Julien added before Étienne could get too excited at the prospect. 'We might not be able to.'

'She'll still be in better hands than with those too-lucky bastards. Where are you going, captain? Anything else you need?'

'No, thank you. Moreau and I will just be retrieving a few things that belong to us.'

'Ah? Which ones? Who took them? Anyone I know?'

Antoine seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before replying. 'Goldtooth.'

' _Goldtooth_?' Étienne repeated with wide eyes before looking at Julien. 'You know who that is, lad? You know where you're headed?'

'I know,' Julien replied. 'He took my sister. I'm going to get her back and your captain and I are going to help each other out.'

Étienne stared at him for an instant, then he looked back at Antoine. 'I don't mean harm, captain,' he said, genuine incomprehension bordering on worry in his tone. 'But I don't know about this. I think you were better off with the Negro as your right hand, at least he had common sense.'

Antoine grinned. 'Thomas is still around. He'll be coming with us.'

' _What_?' Étienne sputtered, and something lit up in his eyes. 'Really? He's still with you?'

'Yes.'

'That old dog,' Étienne laughed. 'Is he still as ugly?'

'Yes.'

'Captain, I have to see him. What about the others? Where're they at?'

Antoine's grin faded somewhat. 'They're gone.'

'Gone?'

'They've joined other crews.'

'What? Who're you taking to seek Goldtooth then, captain?'

'Well,' Antoine paused. 'Moreau. Thomas. We'll see.'

Étienne glanced at Julien. Julien however couldn't really offer a refutation to that premise, so he merely shrugged with one shoulder.

He couldn't exactly blame Étienne for looking at them as if they'd lost their minds.

'Captain,' Étienne said. 'That sounds like mighty few people.'

'It's not ideal. But we'll make it work.'

A heartbeat of silence, then Étienne's face hardened in resolution as he nodded. 'Let me come with you. I still know how to make myself useful.'

'You want to come?' Antoine looked surprised for a moment before he frowned a little. 'I can't pay you what you were used to. Not by a long shot.'

'I don't need payment. I still owe you, captain. The boat doesn't count, I mean I wouldn't have her tomorrow anyway because of those cut-throats, and I'll be honest, captain - it'd break my heart to let you go alone. Well, not wholly alone, but this doesn't seem like a fair fight. Let me come with you.'

Antoine held Étienne's gaze for a moment before, to Julien's surprise, he glanced at him.

He obviously expected an opinion but Julien didn't really have one.

He just shrugged again. 'If you trust him, it's fine with me.'

'I do,' Antoine replied, a corner of his mouth curling up before he looked at Étienne again. 'All right. Thank you for your offer, I really appreciate it. We'll be going first thing tomorrow - _ah_!'

Quicker than lightening the boy in the boat had shot up and forward, taking hold of Étienne's right leg and gripping it tightly. The movement almost caused Étienne to lose his balance and he wobbled for a moment with a curse before he caught himself.

'Don't!' he immediately said to Julien. 'Don't, he means no harm.'

Julien saw that now. The boy was just clutching at Étienne, but his quick lurch forward had set off all of Julien's self-defence instincts. He lowered his pistol, and suddenly wondered if he'd pulled it out _before_ or _after_ he'd grabbed Antoine to shield the other man behind him.

'Devil, Jacques,' Étienne snapped at his newly-found attachment. 'What's wrong with you? Let go, you're pulling on my trousers and I'm not going to stand naked in front of the captain.'

Jacques seemed to recoil in on himself at Étienne's anger, curling into a ball around Étienne's leg, but he didn't loosen his hold.

'Jacques,' Étienne repeated, still sounding mightily displeased but no longer shouting. 'Stop that. Let go. Now.'

'Is that your son?' Antoine asked curiously, stepping out from behind Julien.

'No,' Étienne replied, apology in his tone. 'Dunno where he came from. I saw him digging through my scraps several times so I took him in. Fed him, gave him a sack of hay to sleep on, taught him how to fish. You know. Well, maybe he's a bit my son, I dunno. Sorry for this, captain. I dunno what's gotten into him.'

'Jacques,' Antoine addressed the boy, crouching down in front of him. Jacques wouldn't look at him but there was a slight twitch in his fingers as Antoine talked gently to him. 'I promise I'll return Enjour to you. I just need to borrow his help a little bit, and his boat, but I promise to bring him back and you two can go fishing together again. Do you understand?'

It was odd to hear Antoine talk to the young man as though he were a child, but something about Jacques' demeanour and behaviour did strike Julien as bizarre.

His suspicions were confirmed when Étienne let out a soft sigh. 'He's dumb, sir.'

'Dumb?' Antoine asked, looking up from his still-crouched position.

'He can't talk. I think he understands most of the time but I'm never sure. Sometimes he does silly things. Like now. Sorry, captain.'

'Oh,' Antoine replied, and his brows furrowed slightly before he tried addressing Jacques again. 'Jacques. I promise to bring Enjour back. Do you understand me?'

No reaction, save for Jacques' fingers tightening further. Perhaps a crowbar might do the trick if Antoine's words failed, but something told Julien that wasn't the right approach either. Maybe -

'Jacques,' he said. 'Do you want to come with Enjour?'

Jacques nodded his head so vigorously it seemed he'd rub his cheek raw against Étienne's trousers and he gave Julien a hopeful look, but it was shut down immediately by Étienne's reaction.

' _No._ You're not coming, Jacques. Forget it. It's dangerous and you'll get hurt.'

'That was the wrong thing to say if you wanted him to let go,' Julien pointed out.

Étienne let out a frustrated sound as he rubbed at his face, and it seemed they were at an impasse.

'I'll go see if I can find a crowbar,' Julien said.

'What?'

'To get him off you.'

'Cretin,' Étienne snorted with a laugh, and Antoine chuckled.

'Enjour,' Antoine said, looking up from his crouched position. 'I need strong arms to man my ship. Do you think Jacques can do that? You always used to say you knew how to tie a knot before you knew how to talk. Didn't you say you taught him how to sail?'

'I did, but look at him, captain. I don't want him to get hurt because he's too dumb.'

'Do you understand me when I'm talking to you, Jacques?' Antoine asked the boy, and this time, he was given several quick nods. 'If I tell you to do something, will you?' Again Jacques nodded. 'Well, Enjour,' Antoine said as he finally straightened up, 'it seems Jacques thinks he is ready. If he can follow orders and knows his way around at sea a little, I think he'd be a great help. Moreau and I will go settle your debt now, and we'll meet you here again tomorrow morning. You have until then to talk it out with this faithful soul.'

'Yes captain,' Étienne replied with a nod.

'Good. Until tomorrow, then.'

Julien gave Étienne a nod of goodbye. 'I'll still look for that crowbar.'

'Be a friend and use it on your head instead.'

Julien barked a laugh and Antoine hid a grin before they left, letting Étienne sort things out with his charge.

'It's not far,' Antoine told Julien as they walked back to the main part of the harbour. 'The meeting point is at the inn they played. The most well-known purveyor of ale so cheap it tastes like the Devil's piss.'

'Does it get you drunk?'

'Absolutely.'

'Then it's good ale.'

'From that point of view, I suppose,' Antoine laughed.

'Shouldn't Enjour have come with us, though?' Julien asked. 'He's the one with the debt, even if I'm paying for it.'

'He was meant to, but I suppose we'd first have had to persuade the boy to let go, and it's not time I have right now. Don't worry though, I've already met those men yesterday, after I first talked to Enjour - they know I'll be the one to pay the money. Well, you, but they know who I am.'

'Good. Any risk this might end badly?'

'I doubt it. Certainly not once they see you.'

Julien wasn't sure how to understand that. 'What?'

'I mean, some people invite trouble. Others don't. The luckiest ones are those who make trouble run away. Without offence, you look like one of those, which is very ideal for our immediate concern, but also means I hope you'll forgive me for contradictorily dragging you into trouble right after.'

'You're not dragging me anywhere,' Julien snorted in amusement. 'That is on Goldtooth.'

'Then you forgive me, and we can be friends,' Antoine concluded with a winning smile, the kind that made Julien's thought process creak and halt and he just stared whilst everything inside him fumbled for an answer.

He couldn't say for how long he mutely, stupidly fixated Antoine before colour rose in Antoine's cheeks and Antoine cleared his throat as he looked away.

'Anyway. I think it's - yes. Here we are,' he said as they stopped in front of a building that reminded Julien of a drunken man pretending to be sober. There were flowers on the window sills and the porch was swept, but the man snoring with his face in a flower pot and the incoherent singing heard from within before the sun had even set told a different story. 'Let's go find our friends.'

'Right,' Julien replied, speech finally making a delayed come-back even as he flushed from embarrassment himself.

He followed Antoine inside and to a table in the middle of the inn, and noticed the change in expression of the men sitting there as soon as they saw he was with Antoine.

'We won fair and square,' one of them said before either Antoine or Julien had opened their mouths. 'We won that boat.'

'I know,' Antoine replied. 'And we'll settle that debt.'

'Right,' the man said, glancing nervously at Julien. 'All right.'

The men seemed relieved to see the back of them several minutes later, though it was a reaction Julien was used to.

'Was that really all?' he asked Antoine once they had left the inn. 'That is what Enjour bet his boat away for?'

'Apparently so.'

'And he calls the boy dumb.'

Antoine burst out laughing. 'I tried not to put it this way, but yes. Well. I'm very glad we've concluded this, then. I'll try to make good on my last commitment as well before tomorrow morning.'

Julien let a short moment pass. 'Do you truly believe you'll find more men?' he finally asked.

Antoine's smile faded, and he shot Julien a brief look before sighing. 'It might be a bit difficult. But I'll manage. I gave you my word, so.'

'A bit hastily. Listen, Fauchet. I don't have the time to dawdle for much longer. My sister has been missing for more than three weeks now and I am running out of time. We are leaving tomorrow, I don't care if it's with the five of us or with twenty. I need her back _now_.'

'I understand,' Antoine replied, looking at Julien earnestly. 'I understand, and I don't mean to waste time unnecessarily. We will leave tomorrow morning.'

'Good.'

Antoine studied him, then one corner of his mouth curled up. 'The five of us, though?'

'Well. Four if I can find a crowbar.'

Antoine laughed then, and it made Julien smile before he knew it. 'I understand,' Antoine chuckled. 'Well. I wish you every success, then. Until tomorrow morning.'

'Right. See you then.'

He watched Antoine disappear before making his way back to the inn where he'd slept the past nights, and got ready to leave the next day.

He woke early the next morning, and was at the docks before either Antoine or Thomas. Étienne however was already there, tightening the sails, and he gave Julien a wave of his scarred hand.

'We're lucky, it seems. Fair weather this morning, and hopefully it'll hold.'

'That's good news,' Julien replied as he threw his bag into the boat before following. Behind the sail he saw Jacques rolling up a line of rope, and Julien was immensely amused as he looked at Étienne. 'Guess a man doesn't need to talk to win an argument against you, eh?'

'Where'd the captain find you? You're more annoying than a barnacle.'

'Where'd the captain find _you_? You bet your boat away for five _livres_. What did the other blokes put up for that, a handful of beans?'

Étienne shot him an aggravated look even as he blushed and scratched his cheek. 'I wish I could say I remember.'

' _Ah_ ,' Julien snorted with laughter. 'Of course. Now everything makes sense.'

'Shut it and store your crap away, it's lying in the middle of my boat. Well, the captain's boat. Since he paid for it. Very fine bloke.'

'Where _did_ you meet him?' Julien asked as he stored his bag where Jacques showed him, immeasurably curious to know more about Antoine.

'The captain? When he first bought his ship. Well, what used to be a ship, anyway. If he'd bought a ghost ship it'd have been in a better shape than that wreck. The Negro, Thomas, told him not to do it but he did it anyway. Well, you always know better when you're that age, I guess, and I'm not complaining. I was part of those who helped fix it up. Part of his very first crew, before all those - anyway. Long story short. I needed work and he gave me work, and after I almost lost my hand he gave my sister enough money so she could take care of me. God rest her soul. A face like the Devil's arse and a temper to scare the kraken, but she was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold. If she had one flaw it was that she didn't believe me when I said it was this big. This big, Moreau. I swear. A huge shark. They all saw it, or they would have if they'd been sober. But _this_ big. From there to there.'

'That's not a shark, that's a whale.'

'This big, Moreau. You weren't there. Look what it did to my hand.'

Étienne held out his left arm where indeed, several impressive, scarred indents showed a former wound, and his little finger was missing. Still - 

'I thought you said _this_ \- '

' _This_ big, Moreau, _this big_.'

'Don't be surprised, it gets bigger every time he talks about it. If you let him, it'll end up larger than a warship by the time he's done,' Antoine laughed, suddenly joining them with Thomas in tow. Thomas was carrying several sacks and Antoine was rolling a barrel across the dock, making it stop right in front of where Julien sat in the boat. 'Good morning. I think this'll last us well enough.'

'Greetings, captain!' Étienne exclaimed happily. 'And Thomas! I can't believe it's you. I asked the captain if you were still as ugly and he said yes, but he was wrong. You're even uglier!'

Thomas looked at Antoine. 'I thought you said only water, no rum. Why are we taking a wine bag with us then?'

Antoine chuckled and Étienne burst out laughing, and Thomas allowed himself half a grin as he winked at Étienne.

Julien pointed at the barrel whilst Thomas began throwing his sacks at Étienne. 'For how many?' he asked, though he suspected the answer.

'Well,' Antoine replied, craning his neck to look past the sail. 'Hello Jacques. For five it seems.'

It would have to do. 'All right,' Julien said. 'I'll help you with that.'

'We did try,' Antoine said to him apologetically as they manoeuvred the barrel into the boat. 'Unfortunately, none were met with unanimous approval.'

'It's fine,' Julien replied, guessing that meant the candidates hadn't satisfied Thomas. He had an inkling that perhaps wasn't for the worst, considering what had happened with the last crew Antoine had picked. 'How did you pay for the food?'

'Oh,' Antoine replied, glancing at him briefly before refocusing on the barrel, and Julien suddenly noticed his golden earring was missing. 'Don't worry about it. I told you the next meal would be on me, remember? Does it fit here? We can leave it like that, then.'

 _Why didn't you ask me?_ Julien thought, a strange pang in his chest as he looked at Antoine's unadorned ear. It had suited him and it felt wrong, somehow, to sell personal jewellery when Julien would have had the necessary money.

But he didn't know how to say any of that so he stayed silent as they finished rolling the barrel into its spot.

The food and water were stored away, and after untying the boat from the docking post, Étienne sat down at the stern to man the tiller. Thomas sat down next to him, much to Étienne's delight, and allowed him to fill his ears with a stream of words Julien wouldn't have been able to keep up with. It seemed everything Étienne had to say about the years wherein they hadn't seen each other needed to be told _now_ , and so Julien left them to it.

He himself sat down to lean against the bulwark in the middle of the ship, taking out his favourite knife to begin sharpening it. Antoine was sitting at the bow, his gaze going from the sea to the diminishing harbour, and from time to time Julien allowed himself a quick glance at the other man.

He didn't want - and tried not - to be odd or creepy, but he couldn't stop himself, and the strange mixture of emotions every time he looked at the other man was as disorientating as it was breath-taking.

He was so preoccupied to not be caught staring it took a while before he realised he was being watched himself, and he finally looked up to see Jacques observing him, eyes fixated on the blade in his hands.

'What?' he asked, but to his surprise Jacques immediately recoiled, a frightened look on his face as he averted his eyes.

For a brief moment, Julien was nonplussed. What a ridiculous overreaction to a valid question. He wasn't the one openly staring at another person - well, maybe he'd done it a bit as well, with Antoine, but discreet enough to not be uncomfortable - _ah_.

Julien frowned, but it began making sense.

The boy couldn't talk. He couldn't reply to Julien's question, or even say anything to defuse the situation, and re-going through their brief interaction in his head, Julien realised he probably hadn't sounded particularly friendly. It wasn't intentional; Julien wasn't any good at tempering his voice or words, and he very rarely interacted with people who might require that. The company he was usually surrounded by spat on delicacy.

But a mute half his weight would probably do his utmost to not anger him, or think he angered him.

Julien didn't like the feeling that rose in him. It made something nag at his mind, pestered him with the thought there was no reason this gangly kid should be terrified of him.

'Hey,' he said, and when Jacques tensed, still staring at his feet, Julien paused. He imagined himself talking to Louise, and tried again. 'Jacques. You ever seen a knife like this before? Come here, I'll tell you about it.'

Jacques looked up at him with wide eyes, and after a second of hesitation, slowly scooted closer. He stopped about half a toise away from Julien, and Julien held out his knife so the boy could see.

'This is a stiletto. It's long and thin, as you can see,' Julien said as he balanced the blade on his index, 'and ideal to stab someone between the ribs, and get it deep enough to puncture the lung. In the heart as well, but it's usually easier to stab someone in the side or the back. It's also thin enough it's barely noticeable when you carry it beneath your clothes. All in all, a very useful thing to have.'

Jacques looked at the stiletto with fascination, but had the sense not to try touching it.

'Is that yours? It looks lovely.' Antoine had suddenly settled at Julien's other side, and was studying his knife as well. 'What's written on the blade, may I see?'

Julien had noticed the letters engraved near the handguard, but they had never made sense to him. He had no answer as he held out the blade for Antoine to have a better look, and the other man tilted his head as his eyes swept over the engraving.

' _Giustizia_. Justice,' Antoine finally said as he looked up again. 'Interesting choice for a weapon favoured by assassins. Was it yours?'

'It was already this way.'

'Oh, I see. It looks Corsican more than Italian,' Antoine continued, studying the knife again. 'How did you get it?'

There wasn't any particular censure in Antoine's voice or gaze, in fact he only seemed quite curious, but Julien suddenly felt put on the spot nonetheless.

'By chance,' he replied in a neutral voice. It was kind of the truth.

'Oh,' Antoine replied, looking a little lost at the change in tone, and it immediately made Julien feel guilty. 'That's lucky then. I wish I had the fortune to find more than old hankies.'

He smiled before looking away, and Julien wanted to hit himself. Any moment now Antoine would move back to the bow, and Julien was racking his head for a subject to make the other man stay when Jacques unexpectedly came to the rescue.

The boy tapped his finger next to Julien's thigh, drawing Julien's attention, before pointing to his pistol with an eager look.

'You want to know about this?' Julien asked, and Jacques nodded.

Julien also had Antoine's attention again, which was more than enough encouragement.

'This is fairly easy,' he said as he unholstered his pistol. Unlike his stiletto, it wasn't anything fancy but it did its job. 'This part atop the handle is the hammer. It holds the flint which, when you pull the trigger, hits the frizzen - this part - and pushes it up to strike the pan and create a spark, which in turn lights up the gunpowder to fire the shot. You pull the hammer back to half-cock, like this, to load it. First the powder, then the shot, then you close this and it's ready. You can't accidentally fire it like this, don't worry. You need to pull the hammer back to full-cock for that. Once it's at full-cock, be careful because it can go off. Personally, if I find I don't have a use for it after all, I wrap a piece of cloth around the flint before pulling the trigger - it will hit the pan, but it won't create a spark and therefore the gunpowder shouldn't light up. Still, I recommend aiming it away from you when doing that, you never know. Do you understand?'

Jacques nodded, eyes shining as he listened to Julien. He didn't seem that dumb, Julien thought.

Then again, Julien wouldn't know how much the boy had actually understood until he saw him in action, and he wasn't quite willing to hand over his pistol for that.

'Some pistols have an additional security measure,' Antoine added, and showed his own pistol to a wide-eyed Jacques. 'Some require you to remove this little hook before the hammer is allowed to strike down, and you do that with your thumb when you hold it.'

The boy seemed to be in bloody heaven as they explained to him how things worked, and it was honestly... nice. Julien couldn't have said why, but it was.

Antoine even let Jacques hold his (unloaded) pistol, and Julien was admittedly a little envious of the boy; Antoine's was one of the handsomest pistols he'd ever seen. If the rest of Antoine's attire was rather the worse for the wear, the same did not hold true for his weapons, gold-plated and engraved and obviously of the finest craftsmanship. They were almost princely and, to Julien's amusement, the first tangible proof of Antoine's claim to captaincy.

Unless Antoine had stolen them, which was possible but didn't diminish Julien's opinion of him. He wasn't one to judge, after all, and who could possibly resist such a charming face?

'Isn't that right, Moreau?' the charming face was saying, and Julien blinked.

'Err... what?'

'I was saying to Jacques, the pistol is certainly very handy, but only briefly. You seldom have the time to reload it in a scuffle. The cutlass is much more reliable.'

'Depends,' Julien replied. 'Even when it's empty, it can still be useful. You just hold it like this,' he said to Jacques, gripping his pistol by the barrel, 'and you sock them with the handle. Right in their ugly mug. Trust me, if you do it right you'll get a tooth out of them.'

Jacques made a strange expression, letting out several quick pants through a smile, and it took Julien a heartbeat to realise the boy was _laughing_. Silently, but laughing.

And Antoine chuckled too.

'He's right,' he grinned at Jacques. 'That's also a way to use a pistol, and it does work.'

'What are you teaching him, captain?' Étienne called from the stern. 'Moreau, he's already dumb enough. He doesn't need your influence to make it worse.'

' _He_ didn't bet his boat away for five _livres_ ,' Julien shot back with a smirk, and Thomas snorted.

' _Fives livres_?'

'You wouldn't have been worth two,' Étienne replied in a grumble. 'Shut up.'

'Don't worry, Enjour,' Antoine smiled. 'We're just showing him a few ways to defend himself. He might find it useful soon.'

' _Ah_ , ah yes. Just - don't touch what you're not supposed to, Jacques. Do you understand? Just what they tell you. Thank you, captain. I appreciate it. Moreau, you've earned another day on my boat. Sorry, captain, your boat. I'm just keeping it clean for you.'

'I'm very grateful,' Antoine grinned, even as Julien gave Étienne a rude hand gesture Antoine couldn't see.

Their spirits were good, but Antoine's answer was a stark reminder of what awaited them.

The weather was kind to them over the following days, nothing worse than a strong wind rattling their cordage, and on the eve of the fifth day, a faint shape broke the monotony of the horizon.

Julien narrowed his eyes as he studied it. 'Is that it?' he asked Antoine, who was sitting next to him. The other man had stayed more often than not in Julien's vicinity during their trip, even when he wasn't chatting with Julien or was busy giving Étienne directions, and Julien wasn't quite sure why Antoine did it but he really, really liked it.

Antoine nodded briskly, a strange tension seeming to take hold of him. 'Yes. Tomorrow evening we'll be there. That is good. I had hoped we could make use of the cover of darkness, and the weather is on our side.'

So it was. As the archipelago became clearer, individual isles breaking away from the lumpy shape to form their own, Thomas took over the tiller from Étienne to navigate them through the enclaves of rocks surrounding the largest island. It still wasn't big by any mean, and from afar Julien wouldn't have suspected it to be inhabited. At best it looked like a lifeline for a desperate, unlucky crew, but not much more.

Doubtlessly to Goldtooth's advantage.

The sun was beginning to disappear into the sea when they pulled their boat on to a small beach, hidden from view on one side by a tall cliff, and on the others by a dense forest. There was no sound save for the soft lapping of the waves at the sand, and the distant, sporadic chirps of tropical birds.

'All right,' Antoine said quietly. 'Goldtooth's camp, or village, is on the other side of the cliff, about a mile on foot. Let's get on top and see what we can spot. There shouldn't be watchmen but let's be careful nonetheless.'

Through the forest they followed the outline of the cliff, steadily going up but staying hidden by the foliage, until distant lights could be seen from afar.

Crouching down, they left the forest to silently make their way up the cliff, until they settled behind a cluster of wide rocks with a view of what lay below.

They were atop the beach Antoine had spoken of, and the pirates' encampment did seem like a small village. There were a few proper, wooden docks with a handful of small fishing boats, and the houses further behind were more than temporary huts. Behind them, surrounded by small fields and the source of the spots of light, was an almost grandiose-looking building, clearly modelled after the mansions of the governors of the colonies. It was of wood instead of stone and not as large, but looked a fine place to live nonetheless.

Goldtooth's palace without a doubt, and around it the dwellings of his crew. They had indeed found the pirates' lair.

Julien was focusing on the settlement, trying to discern where they might have put Louise, when Antoine let out a strangled exclamation of delight.

'There she is!' he whispered excitedly. 'The _Marie-Louise_! Right at the edge, next to that cliff behind.'

'That's her all right,' Thomas replied. 'But where's Goldtooth's ship?'

The frigate Antoine was pointing at was indeed the only vessel to be seen.

Odd, but perhaps - 

'He's probably on a raid,' Antoine replied. 'So much the better! Only a few men will be here, and they can't pursue us if we make it out to the high sea.'

Julien wasn't as happy with that premise. True, it made Antoine's venture a lot easier, but not his own.

Hmm. Well.

He pondered on that as they left their hiding spot to return to the forest, and begin the walk through it until they reached the other side of the settlement, where Antoine's ship was moored. The fields at the edges of the village, whilst not large, did require them to take a longer way around lest they be spotted.

The village was not as deserted as might have been expected if Goldtooth was on a raid, or perhaps his men were numerous enough to afford some of them staying on land. 

Either way however, the obnoxious and slurred voices coming from the settlement told Julien and his companions rum was on their side tonight.

Night was a moment away when they at last tiptoed over the dock to reach Antoine's ship. At first glance she looked in good shape, and certainly she was a fine vessel. Julien understood Antoine's desire to have her back.

But he hadn't come for her.

Antoine was the first to climb up the hawser to get on to the ship, followed by Jacques and then Étienne.

Thomas made for Julien to go first, but Julien shook his head.

'I'm going to take a look at the settlement and see if my sister's there. Don't worry about me. I'll be back to help if I can't find her, but if you're done before, don't wait for me. I'll go back to our boat and we can meet up at sea again.'

Thomas frowned slightly, but he made no move to stop Julien. 'The captain won't be happy,' he simply said.

Very likely not. Even with the five of them, steering the ship would have been a struggle, but with one less, it would be a hard fight. But Julien had no choice.

'That's fine,' he replied. 'But once we're off with the ship, the ruckus will make it impossible to come back for my sister. So I'm going to look for her now.'

'I understand,' Thomas replied. 'Well then. I wish you'd have told the captain yourself, but I'll pass it on. Until later, I hope. Good luck.'

'Good luck.'

Julien made his way back through the docks until he reached the first houses of the settlement. The men, and women as he thought he saw, had apparently all converged around a large fire in the centre of the village where they ate, drank and sang badly.

Good. Julien had a feeling it wasn't in their houses Louise might be kept, but he was glad to see them all otherwise occupied nonetheless.

Carefully, hiding in every shadow he could, Julien slowly approached Goldtooth's house.

To his disagreeable surprise, he found not only a gate, but also several men keeping watch; to prevent a drunken mob from getting stupid ideas and damaging the captain's abode perhaps, but right now it was mostly a hindrance for Julien.

Well. The back of the house seemed less guarded, from what Julien could see after going around. They probably didn't expect anyone to come out of the forest.

He'd have to crawl through the fields, but the sun had completely set now and the moonlight was just enough Julien could see what he needed to. The house was somewhat illuminated by several torches outside whilst the fields were dark, and that meant he could see where the few men idled about without them seeing him.

They also seemed much more interested in a game of dice with rum, which certainly helped.

Crouching down, Julien began making his way across the field. The tall crops - sugarcane unless he was mistaken - helped hide his movements, but he still kept a careful eye on the men drinking on the balcony.

He had almost reached the main house when his eyes landed on a small hut at the edge of the field, and he paused.

He doubted the pirates themselves worked the fields, and he could guess who did in their stead.

Well. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

He changed course, approaching the small hut, and went around it until he found a window. It was barred but there was no glass, and after a last glance to check the pirates were still busy drinking - one of them had begun to throw up, much to the others' amusement - he threw a small pebble inside.

Sharp movement for a brief moment, enough to tell Julien someone was awake.

'Hey,' he whispered. 'Don't - '

'Who's there? We're not - '

'Shh, keep it down! I'm not your master. Or any of the others. They're all busy drinking or spewing their liver out. Come closer, I've got a deal for you.'

Silence. Julien suppressed a sigh.

'I'm not trying to trick you. And I don't have much time, so either come talk to me or stay where you are until they work you to death.'

Bit of a low blow, but the incentive worked. Julien heard someone shift until, when the other man spoke again in a hurried whisper, Julien could tell he was on the other side of the window.

'Who are you? What do you want?'

'I'm here to get something that belongs to me back. All you need to know is that Goldtooth fucked me over, and now I'm returning the favour. If you help me, I'll free you.'

'How? What do you want?'

'A friend of mine needs help. I will let you out of here and if you go help him, I'll consider your debt to me repaid. Sounds fair?'

Hushed whispers as the man spoke to the other slaves, in a foreign, strange tongue Julien couldn't understand. There was a strong accent in the slave's French, but it was still good luck he spoke it at all.

'Where's your friend? What does he need?'

'Do we have a deal? I'm not telling you unless we do. I'm not taking the chance of you telling the pirates if I leave you here.'

'Is it dangerous?' the slave hesitated. 'They don't want to die.'

Understandable, but - 'You will if you stay here anyway. Listen - it's dangerous, but no one wants to die. If you help us, we will set you free as a thank you. You will be able to go wherever you want. We won't trick you or do anything of the sort. You help us, you're free. It's that simple. Yes or no?'

The slave translated again, and the murmurs that followed seemed to indicate unanimous agreement. Julien held his breath, _hoping_ -

'All right,' the slave replied, a resolute tone in his voice. 'We will help you. If you free us from here, we will go help your friend.'

'Outstanding,' Julien whispered back, then went around the hut to find the locked door. He took out his stiletto and played with the pins until he heard the tell-tale click, and removed the lock to let the door open.

'Keep quiet,' he hissed as he heard hurried shuffling inside. 'One by one. You, who talked to me - what's your name?'

The reply from within was unintelligible as one by one, in a semi-orderly fashion, the slaves left the hut in a crouched position.

'Don't go far,' Julien told them, pointing between the rows of sugarcane. 'Stay there.'

They did, waiting for the translator who'd apparently been promoted to leader to come out.

He eventually did, and the dozen slaves then stared expectantly at Julien, huddling together and shooting scared looks at the house.

'What was your name again?' Julien asked the one he'd spoken to.

The answer was lost on Julien again, he only understanding the first two syllables - Tobe, if he wasn't mistaken - before the slave continued, 'But you can call me what you want, master. What do you want us to do?'

'Do you know where the ship is?' Julien replied, thinking they'd best sort this naming mess out later.

'The ship? The master left a few days ago.'

'No, the other one. The one that never leaves,' Julien hazarded a guess, and to his relief he was right.

'Yes,' Tobe nodded. 'I know where it is.'

'Good. I want you to go there and help my friend to sail her.'

'We're not sailors,' Tobe replied with wide eyes. 'I don't know if - '

'It doesn't matter. Just do what he tells you to. Do you understand? Listen - follow this row between the crops until you reach the trees. Be careful not to be seen, keep walking low and keep an eye on them over there,' Julien motioned with his head towards the house. 'Once you reach the trees, use them as cover to get around the village to the docks and then to the ship. Can you do that?'

'Yes,' Tobe nodded, and he seemed scared but also resolute. 'Yes, we will do that.'

'Good. Once you're at the ship, there'll be four men there. One of them looks like you. His name's Thomas. Tell him Moreau sends you to help. Did you get that? Moreau.'

'Moreau,' Tobe repeated.

'Excellent. Now tell me, do you know of a little girl? Here, in this house? White skin, long hair - '

'A little girl?' Tobe frowned, before suddenly he nodded, and Julien's heart skipped a beat. 'I've seen her a few times. She was at the balcony over there. That window, there. I saw her a few times.'

'Is she still there?'

'I think so.'

'Good. Thank you. Now off you go.'

Tobe looked at him for another moment, visibly gathering his nerve, before he whispered to the other slaves and they slunk off into the night, disappearing between the rows of sugarcane.

Julien didn't doubt they'd do as he asked; it was their only chance of leaving this island, after all, and there was something in Tobe's earnest expression and voice that told him the other man fully intended to make good on his promise.

Julien let out a quiet exhale of relief at the thought before refocusing on the house and his task at hand.

With any luck, Antoine would get ten more men for his ship, and that pretty much took care of that matter. One of Julien's problems had just been solved.

Now all that remained was to find Louise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and the lovely feedback! This only took forever, I'm sorry for that ._.
> 
> NB #1: sadly we don't have North America's fluffy, white-and-black striped little stink-bomb here in Europe, so knowing only the Old World and the West Indies, Julien would never have seen or heard of a skunk before.
> 
> NB #2: for those wondering, five _livres_ (pounds) in 1700 are roughly equivalent to 125€/108 GBP/150 US$. It's worth noting the converter I used does say it's not a measure of purchasing power, but for the sake of the story (and because I'm no expert) let's just pretend it is :p on a related note, the _sous_ is basically the equivalent of the penny/cent.
> 
> NB #3: the toise was a measure of length used in France before the French Revolution, roughly equivalent to six feet or two metres.
> 
> NB for my non-francophone readers: the English variants of the names used are as follow, if it helps;  
> Antoine = Anthony  
> Étienne = Steven  
> Jacques = James


End file.
